Puddles

‘Jump!’ she says

withered and bruised

She’s impulsive and craves attention.

She floats a wilted flower

and hour by hour

she become less of herself

She’s messy, hard surfaced

a complexion of steel

but she makes me feel

Alive.

So I jump within her

I fall apart

I was hers the second I chose to dive.

I’m again a child, splashing puddles on the drive.