The flutter of wings broke the silence, and she was there
beside him. Athena! She reached out her hand, and he held it.
This time neither Zeus nor Pluto intervened. In moments they
were flying upward, ever upward, to far off Olympus.
He glanced back to the tarn below. The water lilies had covered
its surface. The waves lapped gently at the sandy shore, washed
tenderly the wild rose.
A few red petals fell softly into the quiet waters, mingled
with the white waterlilies floating there.
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(C) 1995 Frank Tymon