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The Perennial Diver
Bubbled
in a young man's breath,
I glided along the weedy
and rock strewn bottom
just out from shore,
a companion to fish
and crustacean, a finned,
neoprene clad denizen
of the deep.
The limit of my lungs made me
gorge on this underwater
world in the brief time
a held breath could last.
I packed so much
into mere minutes
to nourish a lifetime.
I always felt saddened
in having to surface
and leave such wonder
behind.
These days old lungs
barely hold a breath.
At night I now dive deep
into other places
where poetry is -
take in the mystery,
feel saddened
when I have to surface
and leave that world
of words behind.
Copyright ©
Paul Willason
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