Brim (WIP)

I saw an undulating sea, waves tipped with bone-white foam.
There were dolphins riding the crests, chirping “I love you” in dolphin speak.
Blue whales singing their mournful songs to each other from miles apart.
A lonely shipwreck covered in coral that had become a home to all sorts of marine life.
Sea turtles moving with a tender grace, making sure their children would remain unharmed.
Tiny fish cleaning off the teeth of sharks.
Angler fish hunting for their prey, surrounded only by darkness.

I saw a storm cloud heading for a New England village.
The children left their houses to watch the wall of water overtake their coast.
The fishermen put on their slickers and brought the boats to dry docks.
The skies opened up. Rain poured out in gallons, droplets the size of fists.
The streets ran with water, impromptu canals washing away cars like driftwood.

I saw a busted pipe in a slumlord’s tenement.
A little girl trying to sleep as thin droplets drizzled onto her threadbare pillow, soaking the mattress.
A father sitting at a table, picking through the last remnants of late-night McDonalds.

I saw a woman who was full to the brim.
Your depths unexplored.
Your wonders undiscovered.
Your beauty infinite and everchanging.
But all you were to me was a cup of water.
And I drank you up.