Pond

 

A small bumpy creature lay still without movement

Eyes as agile as a cat, lay still on a fly near him

A groan of solitude broke the silence, it was looking,

Looking into the black liquid of which surrounded it on a plant

It seemed as though it had lost something and was trying to find it

It took a long hard stare back to the fly as if to say goodbye

The creature sprang from its feet and plunged into the cool, glittery, wet, deep water of the pond.

 

                                                                       Isabella Sainz