She sits down at the bottom of the pool and stares up through the clear waves, the sunlight dappling down through goldgreen willow leaves.

This is a memory of childhood.

This moment will never come again.

She stares up — separated from the heat and light and sound by the thinnest ocean of clearest blue — blinking slowly, the last exhale helping her rest against the patterned liner.

This is a memory of beauty.

This moment will never come again.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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0 Responses to Breathtaking

  1. Trent Lewin says:

    Sometimes I can’t tell if you write poetry or prose or something in between, but it always stays with me, always.

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