Sydney Lee Jones
Joined July 2021
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Stormwater
Stiffly, we sat on the blue-gone-grey wood floating questionably across the gravel pit pond. Only four at a time could fit but others clung to the edges, desperate for a turn to relieve their pruned feet from the collection of storm water we called a summer escape. Avoiding the rusted nails of gatherers past, we jumped in head first diving deep into our daydreams, never quite enough to reach the bottom. Propelling ourselves downward, we tried to go the deepest yet. But the further we went the colder it got, aching our heads in places we never expected, down to the roots of our teeth. On that makeshift pond, aboard a makeshift raft, we procured makeshift dreams of where our lives would go.
By Sydney Lee Jones2 years ago in Fiction
