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Poem: Splashdown 

Near the wave-pool the asphalt sparkles hot.
I grab your hand, which you wrench free,
bounding ahead, “Come on Mom!”—
“The yellow pirate-ship-slide!”

I squint and crane my neck,
catching you standing in line,
behind the girl with the
“Rainbow Day Camp” T-shirt.

“Mom!” So, I lift my arm, waving.
You adjust your goggles,
make a Superman gesture, wait,
then plunge down head-first.

Bursting up, gulping air, you
grin, goggles akimbo. I watch
you looking, finding, then yelling

I nod, taking a deep breath, watching
you disappear among suits and spray,
thankful we keep an eye
on each other.

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Speaking of...

  • A poem by Sara Walsh-Esposito.


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