You never know,
how much my well can hold,
The depth in which it's built.

You never know,
what has been either poured or dumped.
The mess that lies at depth.

You never know
why the ripples are ornated in rings
The never ending shiver circles.

You never know,
where the bubbles got it's colours from.
The neon laughters afloat.

You never know,
when would it be empty again.
The drought it would be, you think.

Allow me dear,
A while to interrupt.
Never have you seen its depths
Or the mess it is.
Shivers are rare here
And bubbles, lifeless.
Emptiness never confused you
Even before a summer touched you.

For what you are aware of are pools,
Shallow reflections and solid restrictions!

© Neena Baby Mundackal