Submerged

the old sea-pool churns out fun frantic heads flick side to side, limbs flashing, thrashing some are slicing, cutting through elegant submariners chased by water-wake here is one of distinction! stylistic splasher, appendages pummelling plunge under, submerged from sight absent for longer than you are prepared to look where is he? where's goggle-eyes? he's there on the diving board, arm and body poised launches out, " Dymo " diving flat trajectory, depth-charge slap, bow-wave rippling then disappears down the years is that really him? no goggles, the next-door house distinctly in there somewhere reclusive, settled deep in the parental home comes up for air, now and then bicycle scuttles by, too fast, no time for talk submerged by night-time shadows the rare morning breaks, he is there! so have a word chat about those poolside days glimmer in his eyes, about to say, turns away hasty retreat back through time " Dymo's " really gone now, submerged, bow-wave rippling days merge, weeks, months and decades we misplace our keys to unlock the present now cascading hullabaloo our minds fill up with noise, too much whoosh, too much din frustration bangs the door we exasperate, repeat our repetitions submerged below the moment grasp at recognition, at memory sticking immersion, pressure building hold our breath, hold our years inside the pool of joy rush up again, what's the fuss? hanging on, kick the feet, relaunch, bow-wave rippling