Poem of the Week #37

Paparazzi

This morning, I stood on the bluff, early,
looked down at the great lake and the light
twinkling on the surface. I thought at first
it was a jeweled path laid just for me.
I marveled at the sun’s bright display,
then saw I had misjudged the exchange.
As much as I was in love with the lake,
the lake was actually in love with me—
sweaty, old , and tired as I may be.
It had mistaken me for a young starlet;
leaned toward me with a hundred flashes,
eager to capture what smile I might offer.
I turned then from the cameras to start my day,
gladly accepting the lake’s admiration.


Lisa Vihos