Trapped in a stratum a tremulous stay.
Each day my mind rambles on feathered wings,
Will I ever be able to have my say,
Or talk about the past and things?

Sipping cold water I float and think.
A fly grounds on my shade so bright,
Flight then spiral it lands in my drink,
Spinning, fighting almost pleading in plight.

Then still wings beat no more?
A black shell bobbing in a watery frontier,
Will she ever walk back through the door?
Soundless I blink a salty sphere.