The vapours emanating,
From the surface of the pool
Quite rightly named Champagne,
Are a wondrous sight –
One that will have you enthralled,
If only you can withstand,
The pungent odour,
Reminiscent,
Of high school science labs.

And if you are,
Quite the thinker,
You will let your mind wander,
And settle down –
To the depths that wonder,
Where the vapour
Rises from;
Is it the bubbling surface,
Or the depths below,
That produces
This incessant show,
Whether anyone’s watching
Or not?

And also this –
That beauty can coexist,
With a raw force
Such as is off putting,
The kind that emits,
A “keep away” signal.

There aren’t many
Who would care to draw near,
And spend a short time,
Or a long while,
In its presence
Not for them
The lure of this dichotomy
Of rough beauty,
Reeking of rotten eggs,
Despite the brilliance
Of its jagged edges.

But those that do,
Are the ones who choose,
To sit with something,
That is at once
A delight,
As it is an ache,
Of the throbbing make.