There are turtles in the water,
their heads peeping just above the surface
as they swim aimlessly.
The rocks on the other side are steep,
dark grey and pocked with lichen,
glistening and damp.
A child sits on the outcrop.
She has a stick in her hand
and stirs the water.
The turtles pay her no mind,
but she is aware of each of them,
giving them names, one by one,
in a sing-song voice. unaware
of anything else but this place,
this time. Here and now.
You watch, a wistful smile on your face,
briefly young again.
About this Poem
No second meanings in this one. Simple as it seems.