My hands frantically paddle the canoe
as I maneuver it toward the island.
My friend pushes the canoe up the hill,
pulling into the parking lot of boats.
 
We start our short journey
to the other side of the island
and we reach the top of the hill
to see the long forgotten rope
blowing in the wind,
hanging from the slightly dead tree.
 
I stand and savor the moment
while the others rush
to be the first on the swing.
Then my time has come.
My hands burn as I grasp
the knotted rope.
I feel adrenaline rush through my veins
as I slip off the hill of sand and into the air.
The wind rushes through my hair.
I let go and fly for a moment,
I feel my feet slide into the water,
and everything goes black.