What The....

Her face is fresh as beach sand,

Her eyes as blue as deep,

Her hair like billowing seaweed swoons

All the way down to her feet,

But is she a her?

Some say they’ve seen her down by the Loch.

Others say “Kelpie,” under their breath

While the old men talk about seeing her.

One of the villagers gave me a strange look

As I walked by.

Did he say he recognized 

My sand-fresh face,

My sea weed hair,

The teasing, tempting smile

That lies there just beneath 

My deep blue stare?

But am I the “me”he speaks about,

That he has seen

Down by the water’s gleaming edge?

A mystery to be unwound, or

Answers better left unfound,

In a world that teems 

With infinite possibilities?

-jenn