The Last Swim?
A Summer Memory
He escorted her down
the brief incline of small rocks
The sun shone upon her now weathered arms,
And though her footing
was uncertain in the warm sand,
her spirit inhaled memories
of summers past, summers of joy.
The young man continued
along with her into the water,
as he gracefully held her arm,
she might be the queen of this salty spread.
The skirt of her black bathing suit swayed gently
and then it’s hem reached the water’s surface,
one step further, and I watched, as she, the queen,
emerged into her audience of oceanic love.
Her guide, released his grasp,
taking one step back, admiring his mother,
as she gave herself to the world
that would allow her, her freedom.
There in the softened sunlight,
I witnessed the ageless swimmer
whose body had not forgotten
one stroke of gratitude in this
bountiful, buoyant, experience of bliss.