You're Going Slow

One foot drags past another,

I pull myself through water

That won't give back my reflection.

I never had an indication

To the turbulent nature of change,

But dropping coins into a fountain

Never made the bottom any clearer,

It never gave me a new name.

But when the penny hits the bottom

With its intrinsic value facing up,

We'll call each other lucky

And then we'll pick it right back up.