Make your own free website on


The wavy rippley surface looms over, far above me

The light is bright at the surface

But not by me

Muffled sounds mistakenly bump into me

But recognize them I cannot

Wrinkled fingertips are my only gage of time and

How long its been

Movement is slow and difficult and

The last bubbles of life have left me ascending to

the others up there who live off me

I've been the leftovers

Bought, prepared, digested and thrown away

What am I now, what use am I?

I can only float at the bottom looking up and never rise

I'm weighted, weighted here, weighted down here