Irrelevant

I watched the sun move down the sky
From 75 to 25 degrees
And as it slid down past the birch tree
Right before it dipped below the Mountain
I watched the beams of light hit your eyes.
And I could see the bottom
Where the stones lay
Dragged down the mountain by the forceful current
To their final resting place
Deep within your iris

The eyes are the window to the soul
And yours are crystal clear
But they are deceiving.

While I'm floating leisurely at the top
I'd swear that three strong strokes would take me all the way down
To steal a precious pebble.

Two quick breaths,
Followed by one deep,
I begin my descent

One stroke
Two strokes
Three strokes
I'm nowhere near the bottom

The water is getting colder
My ears start to pop

Four strokes
Five strokes
Six strokes
I open my eyes
To try and gauge how much father now
The water burns horribly
Plus,
I have no depth perception under water.

Seven Strokes


Eight Strokes


Nine Strokes


My chest starts convulsing
Begging for new air.

Either I turn around now
Or remain below forever



My head breaks the surface
Sweet sweet oxygen
Meet my deprived lungs.
I return empty handed
No smooth,
River-worn stone to call my own
Not even a speck of sand.