You started digging outside one day,
Within a few hours you had quite a large hole
then you smack the ground and it starts raining,
filling up the hole with muddy rain water.
Quickly weeds grow up around it, running wild.
Suddenly you jump into this muddy lagoon,
I run to the bank and scream your name
you tell me you're fine, but you're clearly stuck.
your head bobs up and down in this lagoon you made for yourself
you gasp for air with each bob.
I hand you a tree branch,
     a flimsy one, but still,
and you just won't take it
you shake your head vigorously and insist you can get out yourself
but you just keep sinking farther and farther out of sight
and I can't call for help because my lips are sewn tight
     I sewed them myself
I take a breath in through my nose and dive into the muddy lagoon
reaching for your body
I find your hand and pull you to the surface
you appreciate the air but you won't get out
you say you're just going to stay here for a while,
try to learn to swim,
I think you're crazy but I can't leave
          a part of me wants to
but I won't.
Especially now that I dived in--
I'm just as covered in mud as you are--
with no tree branch to pull me out.
I'll stay and try to teach you to swim
then we can get out together, shake the mud off, and walk away.