Pond

On the surface, on her side, alive,
But barely, injured, gasping, this
Fish now's not all I see. Beneath
Her, I watch others swim. They're
Brightly colored, thriving things,
And I may cast my line toward
Them as she stares up at me.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 75 times
Written on 2016-03-01 at 15:20

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