Writing on the Wall

Five early morning swimmers
glide the pools liquorice lines.
Silky silent lane-sequencing
disturbed only by splash, dip, lift
and the pool-clock’s tick,
its second-hand red arrow marking time.
Blinking chlorine one glances up,
eyes focus, mind fixed on speed and future gold.
His lithe form shimmers below,
above smooth arms
graceful as a swans neck
divide water,
curved arcs that cut a torpedo channel.
His body on the turn a coiled spring
pushes off with snakes ease
sends ripples to my lane,
his travelling waves reflect wood clad walls,
ceiling pipe-work,
the tiles ocean blue
then,
wash up on my lips.