Semi-aquatic,
silver shimmering,
a swimming body
wet and exotic,

fluid motions
flying in
the pure parts
of our ocean,

she could have been
mermaid, kin
to lesser fisher men,

water friction
pulling her hair
like the wind
forcing each strand
to fall back
as she
flows forwards
faster than the *******
trying to entrap her,
and capture her rapture,

but hazel eyes,
long chestnut hair,
and limber limbs
do not tarry here.
They disappear
beneath the cresting wave.

She is saved,
but her pursuers
are washed away.

She is free to play
as death takes
those hunters
to a watery grave.