Brother’s voices laughed.
Shouting, “sink or swim”, little sister!
Throwing me off the red, red raft.
No ground to depend upon.
Panic set in!
Then instinct.
Tiny feet flowered.
Finding pink petals.
That paddled and propelled.
Forward toward shore.
Touching ground and grace.
Gulping, gasping lightly grasping.
For heavenly earth and air.
How lovely to feel.
The lightweight,
of youthful gravity.
Once again,
underneath my feet.
Sink or swim.
Those things were fine.
But fearless floating,
was the most divine.