Sailing

• Miles Smith, Grade 8
• Poetry
• 2004

The ripples in the water,
Like a liquid mirror.
The wind blowing peacefully past me,
Like music flowing past my ears.
Rush of the wake from the boat,
The gentle crashing of waves.
Smell the scent of the fresh water,
Like a gentle wind.
Taste the fresh water,
Tastes like nothing I know.

Peace and harmony

Miles Smith