I am aqua,
But not the oasis you envision,
Not a forward flowing river,
I am stagnant,
I’ve not swelled in decades,

I’m an environmental hazard,
Wretched liquid in a pit,
The flow goes nowhere,
Mold is my only ally,
In this hopeless broth,

Drop stones and I only groan,
As if revelling in the painful ripples,
Sharing tales of dreams,
With the skulls and scum floating about,
Mosquitoes come for autographes,

Misery is the prime bacteria here,
It would take a herculean effort,
To get this water flowing once again,
This swill shall grow no lotuses,
No futures.

Comments
  1. I thought of mosquitos as I read your poem and then I saw the word! Mosquitos love me. I just ordered a net to hang around my umbrella to protect me!

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