Touching the Bottom

December 31, 2012
Plunge into the water.
Green and teal hues.
Squishy floor at my feet.
With all those clears and blues.
I float around, but take a seat.
I want to let the waterway be true.
The current takes me away, deeper,
with a pressure adding, too.
I need to touch the bottom.

Waterweeds go on and on,
But breath is running out.
I hold myself and dive deeper.
I won't let myself get out.
the water gets inky,
the floor is in view, now.
I need to touch the bottom!
But my hand doesn't know how.
I need to touch the bottom.

I reach far out.
Just a little deeper!
I kick and tug.
I am a sand-seeker.
My lungs scream for oxygen.
The water gets even inkier.
My throat seems to tear at me for air.
I swallow water as an accidental drinker.
I need to touch the bottom.

I am going to drown.
No! I feel the sand!
I settle my feet at the bottom.
It goes between my toes. How grand!
I take a kick, and cannon up
I paddle fast, and cup my hands.
I break the surface, with a shattering splash,
and my lungs expand.
I might have touched the bottom.

I swim to the shore,
And I collapse.
I breath hard, soaking wet.
I feel the waves on me overlap.
I had done it!
I heard an imaginary crowd's claps.
I had touched the bottom!

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