Water Babies

The Water Babies

Two stumbles, a slip and a near
death dip; we slithered after tea
on a hot summer evening into the

cool green soak of my gran's garden
pond. Aged five, both pyjamaed in
bunny-rabbit blue, my sister an I,

twin blunders, heads for seconds
bubbled under and it looked like
death, until the creepers and the slime

took us in their ragged limbs and bore
us up: chubby Ophelias wrapped in
a sushi embrace and the drenching

relief and the fierce hugs soaking
our skin. The feeling of warmth by
the fire when they took us back in.