I watched you glide across the lake
in a yellow kayak.
Your braid trailed
in the clear water.
I half expected the kayak’s prow to lift free
and slide silently up into the sunlight.
Next time, if it does,
will you take me with you?
My kayak is red.
Watercolor “Kayaking Along the Shoreline” by P.J. Cook
Read more poems in Tell Me When I’m Younger.