She sat still by the tarn, out of the dismal air.
Failing while seeking repose, brought her here, as always.
While lost in her slumber, her hands kept rolling the pebbles around.
Quite unconsciously, she tossed one straight into water and then another and yet another and it went on and on.
Her gaze set upon those ripples, now, impeded.
The more unfettered she wanted to be,
The stronger it dawned upon her, she was enslaved.
Contemplating her plans silently, she walked back.
She could only sway, knowing she would get back to the start.
Fancying was the only reliable grip to go on
That path, promising yet detaching.
After all, she had to succumb to her bondings.
No doubt, her faith had long faltered.
Shattered. Undoable.
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