Seaweed

I was so terrified of the green, slimy seaweed that seemed to grab my ankles on the sandy coves of my youth. Foolishly, I thought they would become cognizant and pull me down below into the murky blue depths. I would jump and flee, but they would follow me and sink into the indents my feet made on the wet sand.

But maybe the seaweed was trying to tell me something. To show me the world it so cherished and nurtured before

it

fell apart.

Now, I'm afraid of what man-made detritus might pull me in.