curve turn round.

only to fined straight there.

then circle, who was straights uncle.

curve knew him well and was allowed to past.

past was a munite.

curve was confused.

You have to move or you can not win at the time.

The sweet scent of honey suckles amongst the moist summer air.
The sun is fading, slowly becoming one with the water, releasing colors that touch the soul.
From fields of the softest lavender, to the pink in her cheeks when you tell her she's beautiful, to the Reds and oranges of the flame you used to the light the candles when she told you that you were the one.
The warm breeze that gently caresses the surface of your skin.
The small orbs of light that dance along the shoreline just as the sun says it's last goodbyes.
A slowed down walk along the worn wooden boards that tell you it's okay to take a munite and breathe.
A simple munite to just appreciate, as all those who also appreciate.
Like the new found lovers looking for something that says I'll be yours if you'll be mine.
Or the old lovers who who've found a place that says I still remember why you're the one.
A place for the lonely hearts that need a place to feel and to heal.
And a place for the folks who find happiness in that of what others simply look past.
A little place that you kind of just stumble upon, like on of those days when you feel as if you've lost yourself completely.
So you just go.
And than you find it.
A small town where nothing and everything happens.
Where you can go when you're lost and leave feeling as if everything just makes sense.