S-h-am

There you stand at the edge of the pool. You know you want to jump in, learn how to stay alive there. You know you would enjoy it, want it, need it. But you don’t know how to swim. And there’s an arm in there to hold you if you should drown, but you’re scared. He knows how to swim, and he knows how to take care of you. But you wouldn’t let him. You’re afraid that he may let go, leaving you to flounder. You think you can’t take it. You think you’d drown, or at least swallow a lot of water. Who ever learnt to swim with rubber tubes? You don’t want to learn you say. Liar, I say.