Great Poetry

[Mr.Obvious]

Bilateral Breathing
 
These waters we treaded were cold but calm,
without waves nor currently a current;
no single argument and never qualm.
I believed to be swimming ‘till we weren’t.
 
Now come hither; look at this wet-haired fool
whom, whilst performing the butterfly proud,
caused the perfect storm in his local pool
when the wings of moths summoned a great cloud.
 
The thunderous typhoon reigned supreme,
rained verdict; liquid in liquid did pour,
leaving two drifters at sea and no team
to never swim monotome laps no more.
 
This sinking feeling it is familiar.
Yet I know I shall not sink all too deep,
for the depth which I hold is naught on par
to the pool of tears I’m left to weep.
 
She left me naked, but my swim-shorts:
Unable to leave the pool due to shame.
So I will remember the suit she sports
and continue my strokes, if all the same.