By Alice West, age 17, London
Peering through the surface,
The water, sheet of glass
Vibrating as a plucked string ripples:
The lull of me,
The flow of you.
Your motion still I watch over
Intently yet aghast
At you, my own face amongst the cobbles:
The lull of me,
The flow of you.
A breeze then crashes surrounding space;
Reflection breathes at last.
My image, weak, cracks and crumbles:
The lull of me,
The flow of you.
My face draws ever closer
To you, the mirroring, fast.
Our noses meet, it wobbles:
The lull of me,
The flow of you.
I drop a pebble through my face;
A swelling and our features frost.
The pool’s glass surface wrinkles, fumbles:
Myself I see,
A form of new.
And all that lies before my eyes:
The lull of me,
The flow of you.
