Looking Up

I see you sitting down there.
Legs crossed like you have all the time in the world.
Sometimes I wonder what you’re thinking.
I tried it once myself,
but all I could think about was coming up for air.
I don’t know how you do it, sitting down there minute after minute.
Does it hurt?
Do your lungs ache to draw in a deep breath?
I see you blowing bubbles,
so, it must not be hurt.

 I hope it doesn’t.

Do you sit in that shimmering wet cocoon to escape from the noise of the world?
With legs and arms floating above your head.
Does it seem like everything’s in slow motion?
Does the world slow down?
Or, is it to escape for the moment?
Wish I knew.
I think I’ll ask you when you come up for air.

Whenever that is.