Sitting on the shore of Pebble Beach,
I am trying to hold on to this moment.
If I were a painter I would create images of the trees:
Dark green firs, lighter green maples and oaks,
And paler yet, the shimmering cottonwoods.
I would mix paints together for the water-
Blues, greens and gray.
Wind Mountain in the East,
I would draw as a dome,
Then cover it with green and brown,
With a touch or red here and there.
There would be a splash of magenta to my left,
For the wild sweet peas that reach toward the water,
And a triangle of white in the distance,
That of a passing sailboat.
But the tool I carry is a pencil.
So I write with words,
To create a picture I can relive another day,
And bring me back here,
To the shore of Pebble Beach.
-Rishell Graves
August 26, 2011
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