Summer Song

Rookie - 1 Points (July 13,1991 / Indiana)

My Real Fantasy - Poem by Summer Song

The wind blows on my face
and tangles my golden hair
but for some strange reason
I do not care

My white dress flows in the wind
the music whirls around my head
I place my hand on the silver railing
the setting sun
soothes all other thoughts in my head


The little ripples of the water
are highlighed by the setting sun
and white stars settle on the flowing sea of glass
it goes on forever
like an unending mass

All sounds are forgotten
like a fantasy it would seem
it was so beautiful
almost like a dream

I was awoken by a gentle tap
by my friend
He wanted to dance with me
I took his hand
In my real
fantasy

-descibes a cruise I went on in Washington DC for my 8th grade class trip-


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Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep



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Poem Submitted: Friday, June 2, 2006



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