"He was a poet; and they are never exactly grown up." - J.M. Barrie
Thanks for taking the time to read my piece. It is quite loosely based on the prompt, but I started writing it under the prompt so I just published it where it was. Constructive Criticism is always appreciated.
Written By: Sarah D
March 16, 2015
Her blonde hair curled around the taut plasic of the pool toy.
"I could float forever." She murmured to me, her voice soft like the ripples in the water.
I felt her delicate pinky link around my finger.
A little pull and we drifted closer together; legs brushing and knees knocking.
We stared high up above us at the twisted branches of the trees intertwining with each other; the pale blue background framing them. They rustled and bent in the warm, summer breeze, as if dancing to their own song.
The gentle rustle of the leaves and the warmth of the sun made my eyelids start to get heavy.
"Me too." I whispered, before letting my eyes fall shut.