The Shores

 The silver waters shine against the golden sunset. The sweet smell of honey suckle fills the air. I sit on a porch swing overlooking the lake. I touch the water with my cold feet. This is my favorite place to be.

 

 The frosty air nips at my nose and I shiver, tugging on my sweater. The bon fire slowly builds and towers high above my head. The heat feels incredible and welcome. I close my eyes and enjoy it while the moment lasts. My best friend sits by me and we both smile widely. We giggle and jump into the freezing water. Our clothes were soaked and we were frozen but we didn't care. We floated in place and stared at the full moon enjoying our youth.

 

 The scent of cinnimon and melted marshmellows brougt our attention to the dock where her father was roasting marshmellows. It was dark outside but the light from the fire made his smile clearly visible and the sparkle in his eye shine. His warm hand helps us out of the water. Her mother and sister run to us with towels ready, her eyes were mad but then relieved. We wrapped ourselves in the warm towels and sat down by the fire to warm up.

 

 The night was joyful. Someone brought a radio and we listened to music that none of us knew of but no one cared. We ate and the sound of laughter filled the air. The fire began to fade and we all grew tired. Our clothes were still wet and the air bit ferociously against our thin skin.

 

 We all walked inside with the lamp light as our guide. My friend and I changed into warm dry clothes and sighed in contentment. We turn in for the night and go to our bedroom. I look out at the window. The fire was allready out and the sky was dark blue. The stars twinkled and the water looked magical. I smiled softly. Light footsteps turned my attention to the door. Her father came in to check on us and to start a fire in the little fire place. He left soundlessly and I was to tired to keep my eyes open.

 

 I listened to the sounds outside the window. The waves crashed softly against the shore and an owl nearby was singing her nightsong. The wind brushed through the trees and created a pleasant "whooshing" sound. I was happy. I couldn't imagine any other place I'd rather be.

Author's Note

I wrote this about a year ago, it just came to me and I had to write it down...turns out my random thought had won me a writing competition and I am overly joyed.

Reviews

[L.I. Black]

I can see why it won, it's really ...mm sweet, haha.
The imagery is lovely, the descriptions fit well, and it makes you want to be in that place. Well done.