The Willows

November 10, 2011
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At the Willows the water,
It pushes the sand and rocks.
Boats talk to one another,
With horns they sound off.

The Weeping Willow leaves,
They cry down tickling the grass.
Sea shells glisten and whisper,
"pick me, pick me" my bags already heavy.

The sun touches the waves as if to hug and say goodnight
As the moon rises and says hello.
When you walk to the arcade
Lights like Vegas go off.
I close my eyes as i hear the waves and wind come together.

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