Warmth

What does warmth feel like? True, true warmth? Inspired to write this poem after swim practice today

The gentle hand stroking your face

Tiny tendrils creeping up

Starting at your toes, then fingers

And working up;

Never intruding, never violent

Just the right kind of soft

All of a sudden, you aren’t drowning anymore

The water under your back;

Once insubstantial,

Threatening to swallow you up into its hungry maw,

Is there.

Tangible, viscous, holding you up.

You find you can breathe again,

Or at least, breathe without ink-water racing up your nose

Down your wind-pipe,

Like fire.

But cold.

On impulse, you open your eyes

And you see the sun’s golden rays,

Blinding;

Stroking your face.

 

Author's Note

Wrote this poem up in about 2 min originally as part of my book, Voice (if you want to find out why, go read it!) Got inspired during swim practice today while doing a couple 100s of fly and the sun was just rising over the water and I was momentarily blinded by gold.
Please review!