• Water rushing in gentle waves.
    Voices screaming as the cold hits them,
    far in the distant a boat glides;
    moving, moving slowly as the wind pushes it.
    I plunge into the water,
    eyes stinging as I force them open.
    Gasping I surface, the sun blinding me.
    A soft splash I turn to look,
    there stands my sister.
    Shirt wet and clinging,
    hand protecting a swollen stomach.
    She looks at me and laughs,
    "It's cold." She says and I smile, still I wonder.
    "Does the baby think so too?"