I recall the feel of night blind by darkness on the lake the racing motors journey the sound of an endless wake... through the timeless bends and curves the wind cool upon my face, the smell of lemon lilies at the end a resting place. Where nature's magical music in choir-like rhythm play above and beneath the water... my memory lingers to stay. And now in backward motion through the darkness on the lake, the closing of a journey... the soft rippling wake. ©Marie Calhoun
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