Soft, smooth ripples form at my arm's command.
The water is like a smooth pane of glass.
I look around and don't see any land.
This is bliss, floating, just letting time pass.
My friend bobs up and down, right by my side.
Looking like a buoy, she floats gaily.
The sun beats down, 'cause there's no place to hide.
Oh, how I wish I could do this daily.
This place is peaceful, but I want to leave.
My friend and I feel as blue as a wave.
The water stirs, and the waves start to heave.
Now, we would very much like to be saved.
But alas, now our lips are turning blue.
That's what happens when you tip a canoe.
Feb 26, 2012
Feb 26, 2012 at 7:07 PM UTC
Soft, smooth ripples form at my arm's command.
The water is like a smooth pane of glass.
I look around and don't see any land.
This is bliss, floating, just letting time pass.
My friend bobs up and down, right by my side.
Looking like a buoy, she floats gaily.
The sun beats down, 'cause there's no place to hide.
Oh, how I wish I could do this daily.
This place is peaceful, but I want to leave.
My friend and I feel as blue as a wave.
The water stirs, and the waves start to heave.
Now, we would very much like to be saved.
But alas, now our lips are turning blue.
That's what happens when you tip a canoe.
Shakespearean Sonnet I made in 9th grade.
