I feel the water spraying,

 

intimidating me with its persistent rhythm.

 

I hear the water’s call,

 

it edging up and clawing me,

 

reaching, but flailing.

 

 

As I reach the starting line,

 

the seconds are exposed of their flaws,

 

their stalls and their rushes,

 

they’re anxiously waiting.

 

 

Finally, it’s time to bust through the course,

 

waiting, praying, hoping,

 

passing, passing, passing.

 

The finishing line embraces me,

 

it sighs as I cross its protective, promising barriers.