We used to float in open
calm oceans,
and we would enjoy it.
But that was over,
they said.

At the seashore we stepped on broken sand dollars-

feeling the delicate crunching beneath
our rosy soft feet.
Little tidepools were ankle-deep,
filled with intricate,
pearl-white shells.

We used to float in open
calm oceans.
We used to be careless and foolish,
and we would enjoy it.

Days flew by,
each a
flickering flame
of happiness,
hope,
and clear skies ahead.

Now
we were neck deep in hostile, obscure oceans-
feet barely skimming the bottom of
the rocky seafloor.

The sand dollars pricked and fiercely jagged,
cutting strips of red through
our rosy soft feet.
Pearl-white shells stood
like undefeated armies,
it's intricate fins slicing deep into
our rosy soft feet.

We used to be careless,
negligent,
foolish,
and we would enjoy it.
But that was over,
they said.

The wind blew through the wide-open window,
smothering the delicate flame.

We tried to escape.

Flailing wildly,
feet fumbling through mossy waters.
Damp, musty weed gripping onto the ankles of
our bloody soft, rosy feet.

Down it dragged,
together we went.
Falling silently,
hopelessly-
onto the delicate sand dollars,
the intricate pearl-white shells.