Under The Surface

Under the Surface

The young coots glide on the pond, blissful youth,

Their fluffy feathers and cheepcheepcheeping; a picture of joy.

We painted that very same picture to anyone and everyone,

A fluffy, happy couple. Happy, so happy.

Yet under the surface we frantically kicked,

Just tried to stay afloat.

The fluffy love not visible down there,

Where the water's darkest.

Under the surface reality chomps,

A great, grey pike that eats little cooties.

It circles, closes in, and we both feel it snaking past,

But we put on our brave face and puff out our feathers. 

After all, people might see.