passion = truth: "The Swimmers"

During one hot day at work last week, I heard children's voices and laughter. So I wrote this:

"The Swimmers"

by Jeffrey James Ircink

The sun beats down hard - unrelenting.

I react with a sigh of despair.

I wipe the sweat from my brow - take a cool drink,

and rue this day of days, wondering when it will

come to an end.

Who shares my plight? Who pities my condition?

Certainly not those angelic voices I hear breaking

through the dense heat of the day.

No, not the children - whose laughter suggests

their hearts beat in rhythm to a solitary

thought and motion, as they jump and frolic

and shout and swim.

Droplets bead down their faces -

faces the heat quickly dries -

only to once again plunge into their

liquid refreshment again and again...and again.

I recall with fondness the days when I did the same -

felt the same.

I know how those children feel;

I know what they are thinking.

Do they know what I am thinking?

Do they care what I was once them?

Oh-h-h God...how I hate the swimmers.

passion = truth