Hold a blink and think, “Could there be another place for me?”
Drails catch their slight interests, but not mine. Still, I feel caught and unreleased.
Which is home, the kiddie pool in which one swims or the ocean aquamarine in which one daydreams at skies cerulean?
Some may question what reason prompts a soul to emigrate from halcyonic simplicity to obstreperous calamity, but forget not that it is the shift to that which is not yet habituated that elicits fulfillment.
Coral and molly-blob, kin of different kinds, will ever remain long-lost. Flipper-self, though, is sure, by shore, gratis swevens are worth the cost. ; )