Out of my depth

I’m standing on the gravel shore, yelling,
waving madly with both arms,
me -- middle aged mom in large sunglasses
anxious at the sight of you
drifting just outside the bouys.

It’s not that far, I could wade to where you are,
or maybe swim the last few meters…
I'm pretty certain I could, if necessary.

Still, an instinctual flush of hot danger grasps my throat
and launches me from lawn chair to water’s edge,
exposing my maternal obsession and modestly clad flesh
to the beach crowd.

Lesley-Anne Evans
August 2009