My Special Place
Tyla, 12Waves crashing.
Boat horns echo in the distance.
Port lights shine.
Thick clouds open,
Letting in little sunlight.
Fresh, clean air fills my lungs.
Smooth pebbles mixed with sharp driftwood.
Icy cold water tastes salty.
I don’t want to leave.
Stones skim the smooth glass-like water.
This place just keeps getting better and better.