Ripples
By Reba Jean, August 31, 2002
Rating: G
Genre: Humor/Poetry
Disclaimer: Characters mentioned by name are based on Sailor Moon
copyright 1992 by Naoko Takeuchi/Kodansha, TOEI Animation, English language
adaptation copyright 1995 by DIC Entertainment. This story is
not intended for monetary gain or tangible profit, but purely
for entertainment of the readers.
'Ripples' is an original poem of mine, previously published in 'Short Stories and
Poetry', an anthology by various authors at Stories.Com (copyright 2002,
ISBN 0-9581374-0-4).
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Michiru sat idly under the tree by the lake, watching the sunlight and shadow play on
the waters. Not surprisingly, she watched as well, the reflection of Haruka's golden
hair and form as she wiped away imaginary flecks of dirt on the hood of her favorite
sports car. Frowning as she looked down at the tablet of lined sheets in her lap, the
paper remained stubbornly blank. Flipping the paper over to the blank side she
scribbled quickly.
Ripples
Listen to the wind, my friend
For therein lies a message
The mystery of earth
Blows through leaves of trees
Ripples wavelets on the waters
Blasts with icy cold the arctic snows
Both a gentle thing and an awesome power
Is the wind
Some would question
But I liken love to the wind
For it can come from nowhere
And disappear as quickly
From a gentle warmth
To a rending, tearing storm
It has a permanent presence
In this life
Yet, like the wind
Is everchanging and eternal.
~*~*~*
Michiru threw down her pen in frustration, lyrics, not a damn note. She picked the
pen back up and chewed on the cap. Smiling to herself she began to hum a
mindless tune and her foot tapped out the beat as she watched Haruka.
That woman loves her car.
It's everything to her.
Not a day goes by…
or night time too.
Michiru looked down at the notes she had recorded and screamed in disgust,
"Arrggh!" It was something a rapper or even worse a country-western singer might
record.
She ripped the offending sheets out of her notebook and crumpled them into a small
ball. Standing and brushing the dirt off her shorts she began walking down toward
the shore. Passing a trash basket beside the path, she tossed in the rejected efforts.
"Let's go home, Haruka. I can't write a thing here. It's hopeless."
Haruka laughed, "I told you it was too pretty a day to work. Help me put the top
down and let's go for a drive."
By Reba Jean, August 31, 2002
Rating: G
Genre: Humor/Poetry
Disclaimer: Characters mentioned by name are based on Sailor Moon
copyright 1992 by Naoko Takeuchi/Kodansha, TOEI Animation, English language
adaptation copyright 1995 by DIC Entertainment. This story is
not intended for monetary gain or tangible profit, but purely
for entertainment of the readers.
'Ripples' is an original poem of mine, previously published in 'Short Stories and
Poetry', an anthology by various authors at Stories.Com (copyright 2002,
ISBN 0-9581374-0-4).
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Michiru sat idly under the tree by the lake, watching the sunlight and shadow play on
the waters. Not surprisingly, she watched as well, the reflection of Haruka's golden
hair and form as she wiped away imaginary flecks of dirt on the hood of her favorite
sports car. Frowning as she looked down at the tablet of lined sheets in her lap, the
paper remained stubbornly blank. Flipping the paper over to the blank side she
scribbled quickly.
Ripples
Listen to the wind, my friend
For therein lies a message
The mystery of earth
Blows through leaves of trees
Ripples wavelets on the waters
Blasts with icy cold the arctic snows
Both a gentle thing and an awesome power
Is the wind
Some would question
But I liken love to the wind
For it can come from nowhere
And disappear as quickly
From a gentle warmth
To a rending, tearing storm
It has a permanent presence
In this life
Yet, like the wind
Is everchanging and eternal.
~*~*~*
Michiru threw down her pen in frustration, lyrics, not a damn note. She picked the
pen back up and chewed on the cap. Smiling to herself she began to hum a
mindless tune and her foot tapped out the beat as she watched Haruka.
That woman loves her car.
It's everything to her.
Not a day goes by…
or night time too.
Michiru looked down at the notes she had recorded and screamed in disgust,
"Arrggh!" It was something a rapper or even worse a country-western singer might
record.
She ripped the offending sheets out of her notebook and crumpled them into a small
ball. Standing and brushing the dirt off her shorts she began walking down toward
the shore. Passing a trash basket beside the path, she tossed in the rejected efforts.
"Let's go home, Haruka. I can't write a thing here. It's hopeless."
Haruka laughed, "I told you it was too pretty a day to work. Help me put the top
down and let's go for a drive."