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The sun makes sparkling ringlets on the pond And I watch, sitting quietly, As ducks race upon it, Eyeing the fish that live underneath As my heart is ripped from my chest.   I do not swim in that pond. I do not make sparkling waves That reflect back through my sunglasses. I do not spin across the water Like the lily pads Gracefully dancing and enjoying the cool touch.   Two dressed in matching pink approach. A grandchild who laughs with delight, Pointing her flimsy branch at the gravel And making shapes in the sand. So full of innocence that she projects it around her, But not unto me. I wish I had that innocence.   “You can go down to the water,” The wise old woman whispers, “But you have to hold my hand.”   The tears that leak from my eyes Match the teal color of the bike As I cycle home. I wish I had someone To hold my hand.