The (Sometimes) Deep Blue(ish-green)

I wrote this in class. I hope you enjoy.

The (Sometimes) Deep Blue(ish-green)

Nothing below but who knows what . . .

Nothing above but the vastness of the sky.

360 degrees up, down,

Left, right, and any other conceivable way.

Floating mid-air,

Yet submerged under it,

The cool water hiding you

And spectating you to those just below the surface,

Or above the darkness.

 

Dolphins and whales,

Whales and dolphins.

Swimming ‘round, round

And any other way conceivable.

Diving deep into the darkness

Where you can only go so far.

 

Heart pounding as the pressure builds up

Both from outside and within.

Your lungs pound and beg for you to

Stop,

And your heart beats like a drum.

Satiated with the silence,

You swim up

And emerge from the darkness.

 

You’re at a beach,

Where two people,

Father and son,

Throw a Frisbee to each other.

No other person is there and the air is chilly,

So you dive back down.

 

Staring at the surface in arm’s reach

You can picture the father:

Tanned, chiseled, stocky

With brown eyes

And black hair that goes to his shoulders.

He was smiling

At how he couldn’t throw it correctly.

You can picture the boy:

Tanned, lanky and light-footed.

His father’s eyes are his eyes

And his shaved head can follow

His near-flawless Frisbee throw.

 

You go down deeper

And the ambience from the waves

Fade.

You begin to think,

“Why can’t his father throw a Frisbee perfectly

When his son can?”

“Why isn’t there anybody else on the beach?”

 

You go down deeper

Where the pressure begins to push down on

You.

His arm may be rusty;

Not enough practice with

His son.

You feel mad at the dad.

 

You go down even deeper;

The surface is now a haze.

“But how can the son throw perfectly

If he had no practice with his dad?

Boys?

Friends?

Girls?”

You feel glad for the boy.

 

You dive down so low

That you hit the bottom.

By now your nose is bleeding

And head is pounding.

“It’s so chilly up there.

Why are they out?

Is this their time together?

Is this

Their

Beach?

 

Marcus and Josef."

 

There’s probably buried treasure under your feet.

You may never know.

But you feel lightheaded

And you’re out of air.

Satisfied

For now,

You break for the surface.

Author's Note

I had a bit of trouble with the font color; I think it's flip-flopped (at least for me). Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this.

Reviews

[Tate Morgan]

He was smiling
At how he couldn’t throw it correctly.
You can picture the boy:
Tanned, lanky and light-footed.
His father’s eyes are his eyes
And his shaved head can follow
His near-flawless Frisbee throw.

There’s probably buried treasure under your feet.
You may never know.
But you feel lightheaded
And you’re out of air.
Satisfied
For now,
You break for the surface.
these are the best parts they tell of reality shared truths a son who surpasses the father .And the buried treasure under your feet No doubt not as valuable as the treasure on the beach