It’s summer and one of my great joys is being on, on, or under the water. Every time I have a dip I take the chance to just float, often remembering how hard it seemed to float when I was younger – how I would try and try to relax and believe the water would hold me up.  My mum seemed to be able to float and float and float.

These days floating comes easy. Maybe it’s a special skill that magically happens when you get older, or maybe, like riding a bike, once you learn to do it, it’s very hard to forget.  Either way, this poem is inspired by those thoughts.

 

Floating

by Sally Murphy

Little kids float like starfish –

arms out

legs splayed

eyes screwed shut

as the teacher watches that they don’t drown.

 

But I float like a cloud

for ages

watching the sapphire sky

ears cocooned by lapping cool.

Nobody here

but me

in a bubble of pleasure.

 

(poem and photo copyright Sally Murphy)