In the middle of the river he saw
her floating effortlessly,
Tossing about almost willingly in
the river’s rain-swelled belly…
She wasn’t trying to swim – her
gaze fixed upon some point distant,
Her long white robe and flowing
black hair made him feel almost faint…
His instinct was to quickly rush to
her lest she is lost,
And so he rowed furiously till he
reached her almost,
Called out to her with all his
might to drown the water’s cacophony,
She turned and looked at him –
almost as if he was hopelessly phony…
Then she stretched her hand towards
him – reaching desperately,
He inched towards her, continuously
waving to her reassuringly,
Trying to steady the boat so that
it doesn’t hit her head,
Fighting the jousting currents in
the river with all he had…
The Boat wouldn’t turn at first -
rebounding again and again,
As he stuck a pole to the bed and
pulled – it was all in vain…
It suddenly creaked and shrilled in
a mighty effort then,
Sympathising with him who had been
with it from who knows when…
An arm’s length from her he reached
thus finally,
And now that he was here he felt a
surge of panic suddenly…
It was fear – it’s pure
unadulterated form for him was so highly unusual,
Stretched out his hand to her in a
cold numbness almost too cruel…
Then he caught her eye and grasped
the very definition of being calm,
In her eyes there was pity aplenty,
and there was a soothing balm,
He looked here and there – was he saving
her or was he being saved,
And as the winds blew she pulled
him down into the waves…
