The Island

November 28, 2007
By Bryant King, Alpharetta, GA

Deep, way back
behind the trees,
a slow sandy start
leads to murky water.

I run,
run to hear the sand
crunch beneath
my feet.

The sweet smell
of the fresh sprung flowers,
floats to my nose
while I lay on the warm sand.

The calm rush of the creek,
the shade of the trees,
the gentle summer breeze,
makes it the perfect getaway.


Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.



SciArc

MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!