I sit submerged, eyes closed, submerged at the bottom;
 bottom with my eyes closed.
 The pool’s steady drone pressing lightly of the pool presses on my ears,
The children’s water muffles children yammering muffled by the water.
 above.
I’m alone on a busy summer day.
The air is bright and warm, the ground is hot.
The sky stretches blue and smooth above.

When I resurface and the day greets me with a roar,
 roar.
 Kids splashing splash around me, and only me. Only my eyes move
as I stand against the edge, hair dripping slowly.
 dripping.
I’m unsure not sure I’ll see a slow summer like this again.
I’ve finished playing and growing, and now
It’s time for the rest of my life.

I think about the two decades behind me,
And then the six or so ahead;
 ahead.
 I can almost count them on one hand.

I plunge down into the water again;
 again.
 This air, a few feet below, is thick and slow,
Darker, cooler, quieter.

With every second here, my time grows scarcer.

I think of the timid little Little puddles around round the pool, pool lay drying in the sun;
 Then I think of sun
 While the sea and its sea’s colossal depths
 Silently swallowing light and depths swallow sunlight
 And warmth with an unyielding appetite.
 appetite unyielding.
I sit submerged with my submerged, head in my hands,
The vastness Vastness pushing on my eyes and ears.
I realize I can’t stay here.

This is not my world. My world is a little bead necklace,
a A string of moments precious and tiny and few,
And I’ll That I will bead and cherish it until til it’s buried with me.

I resurface again, this time embracing the greeting;
 greeting.
 I breathe in the warm air and push myself out onto the hot cement.