I dream of it often:

a younger version of myself,

standing at the bottom of the ocean;

arms aloft,

mouth agape,

eyes glaring,

not seeing,

not breathing,

still as stone in a watery fane.

I dream of it often:

a younger version of myself,

standing at the bottom of the ocean;

arms aloft,

mouth agape,

eyes glaring,

not seeing,

not breathing,

still as stone in a watery fane.