I possess the gliding tides of water:
Translucent and true.

Their perfect perfumes
Foam and bubble
To coat the surface.

Beneath the surface
The wondrous water
Knows no streak of daylight.

Like a drink
It hydrates

My awakening face
My brown curls
And that intangible wonder

Dubbed ‘a mind.’

Like a sun of night
The light
Perches above the known tan sink.

It beams
It perceives

My introversion.

Amy Cavanaugh