On the floor of my mind

I sit, weightlessly 

rocking back                   (back, back)

and forth 

casting my reel

into lunar lakes of thought 

its slender line 

sinking                              (down, down) 

into the brine basin 

then cautiously, cautiously

dipping my toe in 

before retracting it back 

as its ice cold grip 

tries to pull me in; 

for once I slip into these waters

I might lose myself

fall down                           (drown, drown) 

and suddenly forget 

how to swim.