He swims across the river everyday,
diving in headfirst
and letting the cold rush over him,
awakening his senses and making him alive.
He swims hand over hand,
past jagged rocks and around the other boys,
and he is only disappointed
when he reaches the other side.
He swims in the river everyday,
just how deep it really is,
aware that the cold is numbing him,
numbing his senses,
killing him slowly.
He swims, looking for the best spots,
so that he won’t hit any more rocks,
secretly jealous of the others
who have claimed the best spots,
wishing silently for the river to end.
He swims in the river no more;
he knows what the waters hide,
the secret dangers he learned firsthand.
The river would just chill him to his frail bones
and carry him off against his will;
and he’s not quite ready to go yet.
He walks along the river bank,
wistfully watching the sun skip across the water,
he knows better;
every now and then,
he’ll dip his toes into the river,
wishing it was still the same,
dying to regret it all,
all over again.