Allabout the water rises.
And what if she does only see the good?
Would it be better to only see the bad,
Worship doubt and worry,
That stuff of youth that brought her low?
The world is too bright, too many are dead,
Too much is at stake not to look allabout.

Reaching out grasping air and the sun, life,
Fingers aflame falling forward,
She
She
She is restless like the tongue of babes trying
To articulate, mouth struggling in gentle persuasion
Of words on tiny ears and eyes expressive with joy.
She is new to the world daily in her hopes and dreams
And wallows even in the waiting
For what may come.