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
© Caitriona Hansen
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