Deep Sea Dwellers
Another slips under the surface
And joins the hundreds
That drift gracefully below.
Long hair flows around their pale, colorless faces
Arms stretched forward, fingers extended
As if reaching for something gravely important
That lies just beyond their grasp.
Clothes tattered and worn where they are worn at all,
A sign of how much time has passed.
Above them, the day's final rays of light
Refract off churning water and dark, ominous waves,
And a girl sits cross-legged at the end of a wooden dock.