My aunt told me
That often I stood, peacefully pondering puddles
Swinging my welly boot gently back and forth
Making swirls in the water

Our land is boundless but
She said it seemed as if
I found my own plane to exist in

Our land is impenetrable to some – but
The puddle opened up to me, a safe place –
My imagination

I lived there often,
Perhaps my heart always has
Now that I am older, these swirls manifest in my words
And sometimes I still go puddle-pondering
But the puddle has transformed –
Now I breathe in the sea.