Catching you was the first thing I knew I had to do. 

We fish are wary, wet, wanderers,

so, I thought I had to catch you,

until I stopped thinking.

Neither one of us was prey. 

 

Then, I explained you away into the shallows.

You’ll never reach me down here,

sunken into the soft sands

where we bottom feeders dwell.

Instead of feeding, you fed me. 

 

Now, I can’t recall swimming alone. 

When the sunlight bends around us,

telling tall tales of a thing called “sky”,

I am contented by your sussurations.

What else is there, but this?