When you had swum and rose to leave a pond,
a force you can’t define bid you to stand,
to scan the shoreline and the waves beyond.
Not knowing why, you followed its command.
You saw then two young women, drowning, screaming.
A lifeguard raced but was too far to help.
You dove to them through water swiftly streaming,
returning them to shore, in your arms held.
But you don’t like the story to be told,
and joked you saved them since they were so pretty,
nor do you feel you did a thing that’s bold.
Had you not been there—what an awful pity:
their countless life dreams would have sunk to zero,
but you were there to save them, humble hero.
Mario A. Pita