The Pond

		A poet sees a glassy, reeded pond,
		And tries to skip his inner words across.
		Some words make ripples widely felt by all.
		Some words make ripples only felt by him.
		Some words do sink to murky, muddy depths.

		A poet sees a glassy, reeded pond.
		She breathes through reeds at murky, muddy depths,
		And finds the inner words that sank and drowned.
		She wraps these words of his in words of hers,
		And these, their words, make ripples felt by all.