Never-ending Masterpiece

I feel the col of the breeze on my face,

hear the whistling orchestra of wind.

I see the bay and southern ocean

spread out for miles

like a never-ending masterpiece,

a painting of the most beautiful place in the world.

You feel like you could do anything,

I fee like I could fly.

You shout out,

your voice carried away in the cacophony of sound,

like a leaf being thrown around in the win.

The rain starts to fall in heavy waves,

blanketing the landscape in a grey haze.

We stand there

because this world is only temporary.