A Year of Poems – Day 2

It’s just water
flowing down, liquid blue.
It’s only matter –
Oxygen, Hydrogen (two).
It’s just a stream
cutting the land to the sea.
And when you boil it down you get steam.

If it falls from a cloud it’s called rain
(If it’s frozen you should call it snow)
But I shouldn’t have to explain
What we should obviously know.
When it’s cold it becomes crystal clear
that there’s nothing else to it to fear.

But why when you mix it with salt
and its falling in drops from your heart,
does it feel like so much more
than the stuff it was made of before?

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