Plop.

                                                                                         Side by side with my Papa,

                                                                                         Less than half his size.

                                                                                         Sparkling water glistens.

                                                                                         Hunted by wild geese,

                                                                                         Soggy bread floats before me.

                                                                                         Finger to my lips,

                                                                                         Wide-eyed,

                                                                                         We mustn’t scare them.

                                                                                         Whispering secrets to the water,

                                                                                         The trees lean in close.

                                                                                         Sitting upon this cement table,

                                                                                         I see the stars, carelessly floating.

                                                                                         Staring into the deep cold water,

                                                                                         Water of my heart,

                                                                                         I am a little girl, in a painting

                                                                                         Hanging on a great queen’s wall.

                                                                                         A pond for the old.

                                                                                         A pond for the young.

                                                                                         A pond full of beauty.

                                                                                         A pond full of cold.

                                                                                         A place where Snow White mingles.

                                                                                         I float away and see myself.

                                                                                         I feel loved.

                                                                                         A divine feeling swims through me,

                                                                                         Here at this pond

                                                                                         With my papa.

                                                                                         Its fetching features so alluring.

                                                                                         Eyes of the fortune tellers.

                                                                                         Words of the old and wise.

                                                                                         Comforts of a grandmother.

                                                                                         The water of my heart

                                                                                         Holds me captive

                                                                                         In its arms of love.

                                                                                         Never to be forgotten.

Debra Cavener is a tenth-grade student at Central High School in St. Joseph, Mo.