Ativan 2mg

You stand on the banks of the glassy reflection.
Chartreuse grass plush underneath your weight.
The mirrored leaves dance in the tides.

You look down to see a familiar face.
A little bit changed,
In the liquid grace.

In the pond,
Wind-driven sails glide, slow.
Bracing each wade,
Without a splash or a ripple,
Their painted hulls already know.

Chalchiuhtlicue¹ swims with the toy boats.
The varnished wood glides around her emerald skirt.
In Central Park, her aura breeds hope.

A serene smile on her face beckons you in.
Telling you it's time for you to know a secret—
That only she knows.

For a fertile life,
You must succumb to nature's furrows.

Life will never be perfect,
There will always be—
A broken pearl necklace,
Shouting from the neighbor,
A night of frightening thunder echoes.

To align with its harmonies,
Nature's mysterious waves,
You can learn from the toy boat.

No matter the winds, the hail, the snow,
Its hull rocks and flows.

Learn to cope,
With the pain, the fear, the lows,
And you will do more than float.
You will sail through ponds unknown.

So you sit by the shore,
A little bit of pollen stuck in your nose.
You breathe in the spring,
Thankful for the water's hope.

Footnotes

1. Aztec deity of ponds, freshwater, and fertility. ↩