(a Shakespearean sonnet by MysticRiddleton)

Lake of mirror from beneath,
On thee reclines the wet gray cotton sea
Glowing faintly overneath
Projects penumbras of the tree
Pictures alter by the angle
Heaven slithers swift as I
Near and closely leans in angle
Sees thy creature eye to eye
Alas! The radiance that makes thee luster
Decides to pluck thee bit by bit
Pictures fading by the mirror
Lake of mirror, be not beat!
Keep thy stagnant lake, oh mirror
Let thou ripple with some vapor.