As if I knew this pond

I knew this pond, the dense forest bordering

its edges, the distant cries and yelps of children

splashing into the water, shocked by the sudden cold on their skin

I knew

this pond, the dappled sparks of sunlight reaching

deep into my retina, the cries of the children echoing

resonating in my ear canals, gradually diminishing

as if I knew

this pond, but it wasn't, was it, it wasn't the one

where I arrived at dusk, barefoot, my hand in his,

the moon was bright that night, and the water lapped

at the shore, that pond

was here, the forest was the same, the cries of 

the children had simply been there earlier that morning

while I was still up changing bedsheets in their rooms

the ponds are all the same aren't they

the sunlight glimmering on the water, each ripple catching

a different beam, each beam bouncing back into the 

memories of a 

différent pond, but aren't they all the same