March 14, 2009
By Tay_Nicole BRONZE, Gaylord, Michigan
Tay_Nicole BRONZE, Gaylord, Michigan
2 articles 6 photos 4 comments

I slowly rose.
No sign of ripples phased the stillness of the lake.
Thunder sounded; the gates of Heaven opened and released perfect, individual water dropplets.
Looking to the gods, tiny pellets of water broke onto my skin.
This is prefection-Gods finest work.
If only time would freeze the clocks on this day, this minute, this second.
This is the closest I'll get to a utopia.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.

Parkland Book