Paths II

Whiting eat the sand fleas before me,
that burrow all around my feet
at the point of a midnight island
where sharks, you may likely meet.

The dangers of the flowing currents
made swifter by outgoing tide,
won't stop me from walking the shallows,
though dread may be flowing beside.

For this is my place, you see,
at the edge of the watery deeps -
where flashes of silvery evasions
may flare into splashing leaps.

A feast in a moonlit kingdom
where they dance in dark blue light.
Just there, I could easily join them,
but I fear their dreadful bites.

I know they would never accept me,
and I know they could never be true.
So I walk the edge in the shallows
and dream of their kingdom of blue.