If I am sinking
to where the beams of light
linger pale and thin,
I can't pull her with me -
like a boulder tied to her waist.
She needs to swim freely,
a dancer underwater,
and come up for air
where the sun kisses the glassy shell.

I need her to know -
not to know, but to see -
that I'm on my way up
to kiss the sun, too.