Indoor Green

The wind today, it carried

that sharp, clean tang.

Past the center, hurried

my steps, a memory sprang.

Chlorine, it cuts the air,

a knife through summer heat.

And suddenly I'm there,

my small self, off my feet.

The tiles, slick and white,

the smell that stung my eyes.

The way the water, green with light,

held all our splashing cries.

A kind of freedom then,

before the world turned wide.

Just breath held, and again,

the cool rush, a blue tide.