The water was an aquamarine swirl in the backyard Doughboy pool. We joined hands and raced in circles before picking up our feet and coasting in the current. I made my first home in a dingy drab apartment; A married woman-girl with rented furniture. When my mother saw me at her door she cried. Paris, three am, a tiny hotel room; laying side by side, My daughter giggles helplessly and my Aries self, out of control, gives in to silly laughter. On Mother's Day, I sat in a sliver of sunlight watching my children beat the batter so busy, so focused. I held my warm black Starbucks mug and drank deeply. I sit in a faded chair by the pool with the dogs, palomino and straw washed together in their wet fur. The sun glints off burnished copper boulders, sunshine is pouring like liquid honey. We sat on the boulders, ocean pounded, smooth; White foam tipped waves spill (filling the crevice where we stashed our wine) Your sapphire eyes deepened to dark cobalt -- Oh my! Oh yes! The water was an aquamarine swirl in a dingy drab apartment; laying side by side. Beat the batter pouring like liquid honey; Oh my! Oh yes! This poem was written with a prompt from Joseph Harker's Reverie, on linking short poems to make a poetic charm bracelet.