The Island

November 28, 2007
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.

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