Aquatic Afterthought.

I siphoned you, from off the pale skin of the pool pollen thin and yellow dust, sweet gone by and ready to slip to soil hindered by chlorine and tap danced on by a thousand night bugs who trampolined in silver ripples when only the moon was looking. I spat you out, rust and tang from the old green hose which sat coiled beside the tin shed's feet for decades, a home for woe-begotten weeds and that old rake with no handle which once I used to pull down pieces of the sky in a demand for rain. It's all for naught on this summer day as the riddle of affection comes full circle and presses it's nose against my thoughts I cling to the vinyl wall, mere seconds, before pushing off with pruny feet to take a dip.