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