Sunday, 16 June 2013

Water Baby

Water Baby

Froth streams past, blurring faces, she glides,

bubbles come towards her like fish which tickle  as they go by.

Her locks go limp, wilted seaweed covers ears

she hears only natural silence, watery whispers.

She raises her small body into the dry cold air,

into noise of a world where she doesn’t belong.

A wall of voices hit her like a wave, a blaring current of noises.

She perches on her mother horse, small legs each side of its waist,

a red swimsuit  her saddle, mermaid’s hair

wrapped around small fingers, her reins, her seahorse.

They swim together, under the surface, back down

into the silence, swishing tails and silent sound.

 © Caitriona Hansen

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