Sailing
by Isabelle Cunningham
Tiller in one hand and rope in the other,
Passing by islands one after another.
I hear the squawking of seagulls
And swishing of the waves
And the buzzing of a bee
And I can taste the salty sea.
The bright yellow sun is shining through my sail,
I can almost feel myself inhale.
I dip my hand in the ice cold ocean,
Trying to ignore the fact that I'm frozen.
I can smell the freedom in the air,
I can sail my boat anywhere!
I fail to persuade myself to go in after sunset,
There's no way I'm going back in yet!
***
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by Isabelle Cunningham
Tiller in one hand and rope in the other,
Passing by islands one after another.
I hear the squawking of seagulls
And swishing of the waves
And the buzzing of a bee
And I can taste the salty sea.
The bright yellow sun is shining through my sail,
I can almost feel myself inhale.
I dip my hand in the ice cold ocean,
Trying to ignore the fact that I'm frozen.
I can smell the freedom in the air,
I can sail my boat anywhere!
I fail to persuade myself to go in after sunset,
There's no way I'm going back in yet!
***
Read our past poems here!