A poem.

Little lifeless pond
that comes and goes
why don't you
rest awhile, and
make a world.

Let amoeba come
and put down root.
Then in a million years
aquatic life
will think, and love,
and die, like us,
a world within a world
t'boot.

I've written 'poetry' since my earliest memories, but have never considered making it public. Now, behind the anonymity of my sobriquet, I offer this wee ode that was written about a tiny indoor pond, that would suddenly arrive, then disappear; seemingly without logic.