Sunlight, breaking on water.

Why do you struggle o little one,
As I hold your head under the water?
Why do you fight so,
In the fast-flowing cool, fresh water of the stream?

This place is so beautiful,
Dappled sunlight breaking through the trees above,
Fresh green fronds,
Dipping into the sparkling water.

Your small paws splash the surface,
Your body twists and writhes around my hand
(And yet still you love me,
For you do not scratch my arm;
You do not bite at my fingers)

We all struggle against the current,
Knowing that we will lose,
And one by one we fall to the wayside,
Allow the stream to carry us away.
Why shouldn't we end it here?
Why should it matter?

But it does. Doesn't it?

Slowly your struggles weaken,
Until eventually you struggle no more.
Matted fur against your warm body.
My eyes are wet with tears,
But I continue to hold you under, until

All is still.
And there is only the sound of gently rustling leaves.

... And that, perhaps, would have been a good place to end things. Maybe one day I will write a book of some sort and include it last of all. Who knows. But, thanks a great deal to a rather excellent collections of short stories by Neil Gaiman, my desire to write has returned. I have two ideas for plays, one idea for a book/film, and a number of old bits n bobs I haven't added to here yet. So with any luck I'll be updating this again on a regular basis. Don't hold it to me too firmly however...