It was a time when underwater tea
parties and games of Marco Polo
motivated energetic kids on hot
summer days, long hours were spent
cooling off in swimming pools with
friends. I was there most days
playing along, except during camp.
Then I was a ballerina swimming
through the chlorinated water,
a naiad in her natural element.
Laying flat and moving my hands
in quick figure eight motions, I
floated atop the glassy surface.
Others beside me did the same;
lined up we looked like sardines
in a metal can. Yet we pointed
our toes and lifted our legs
performing adagios, battements
and pliés on our liquid stage,
swam as dolphins in underwater
circles and fancy flippy tricks
as the coach counted beats from
the sidelines swapping horseflies.
Prompt inspiration: Poetry Jam and Poets United
Click here to read another piece on summer camp (revisiting the Rocky Horror Picture Show)... I've added pictures since I first posted.