Opposites Attract

I sit beside his worn, brown shoes.

His jeans,
          checked shirt
                        and stripy socks

mark a scattered trail
to the water’s edge.

Laughter reaches my ears,
carried on the breeze,
which teases strands of hair
from my once tidy ponytail.

A silence settles over the lake.
Nature dips her finger,
rippling the water—
creases uninterrupted.
I scan the surface,
panic squeezing my heart.
Birdsong is eerie
in the stillness.
Goose pimples
erupt on my flesh.

He breaks the surface
with a gasp,
frothy spray flying
skyward and then
raining back down,
catching the sunlight.

‘Come on in,’ he calls,
‘the water’s fine!’

‘Next time,’ I reply … yet again.


(Written for: "Pond Poetry" ).