For Those in Peril

The root cause of this nightmare was I hadn’t learned to swim.

Those hated hours of casual torment from a callous teacher

in tiled and tainted torture chamber taught me just one thing:

Avoiding water keeps all chance of drowning out of reach.

Terrestrial philosophy I shared with laugh and smile

if challenged for my failing by a zealous aquafile.

First holiday as family, we roistered to the beach

with windbreak and umbrella, bags and bundles, food, and all.

Intent on an encampment that no Bedouin could breach

set up our camp, laid down our towels, with bucket, spade, and ball.

Oblivious to peril, we were laughing, happy, free.

Till looking round, I saw you running headlong to the sea.

So fast, so far, so precious, and so very, very young.

Not old enough for swimming lesson; leave that to the school.

I ran so hard, I felt my substance bursting from my lungs,

just like the times that schoolboy floundered in that chlorine pool.

Till gasping, grasped you, wet but laughing, up out of the spray.

Guilt sodden fool, I booked my classes by the end of day.