it is noon by the river, i
clench onto the soil and
grass, an odd angle but
i keep my balance. blinded

by the shimmers, the
romance between the
sunshine and the gentle
ripples remind me of

yesteryears, a younger
me flicking through
the channels. i
somehow yearn

for those early misty
mornings, my grandma
was yet to have basins,
young spirited cousins

spitting minty toothpaste
onto granny’s green garden,
she didn’t mind. today, the
littlest cousin, speaks with

this exact freedom. the
humour of a child cares little
about perception, or what is
right, shame in being corrected,

the importance of keeping in line,
i wonder if she will ever feel as
free as she feels telling her aunt
that she looks chubby, i ponder

about my own life, if i’d connect
with that sense of liberty,
dancing with my body of water,
without a care of the eyes.

-tm