Pondering,

I mire,

Right near center of the pond,

Grasping for something.

Anything.

Suddenly, a fish bites.

I struggle to hold on,

Losing it by the fins.

The fish vanishes back into abyss.

I return to where I started,

Almost forgetting where I was.

I have to start anew again.

There is always a new way to see old fins.

J.T.

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J.T.

Born and raised in the Los. Los Cuentos. J.T.

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