Swimming the English Channel,
struggling to make it to Calais,
I swam into Laura halfway across.
My body oiled for warmth,
black rubber cap on my head,
eyes hidden behind goggles,
I was exhausted, ready to drown,
when I saw her coming toward me,
bobbing up and down between waves,
effortlessly doing a breaststroke,
heading for Dover. Treading water
I asked in French if she spoke English,
and she said, “Yes, I’m an American.”
I said, “Hey, me too,” then asked her out for coffee.

1 Comment

  1. B. L. Bushong says:

    I don’t mean to be rude or anything, I think it’s a very nice poem. I just can’t seem to find the rhyme scheme to this poem. Does it even have one? I’ve TPCASSTT it to Hell and back and I still can’t seem to pick up on it. I’m looking to do a peice on it for English Class, you see, so if anyone can help me out I would be greatful.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *