Pond

Muddy waters dwindling low

Filthy puddle, long grass

“My old friend

how much longer will you last?”

On solid ground,

I now walk, where I

once swam in summer’s laughter

Thinking

was it here?

I struggled

 to feel my feet

treading water

through the deep

And what of you

Red belly

Through what waters,

do you now slither?

And Francesca Bigglesworth Pickledbottems!

To whose ears,

 do your croaks now come hither?

“My old Friend

So shallow are your waters,

now there are only memories to dive into.”