Crawford High School - Centaur Yearbook (San Diego, CA)

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Michelle Cavallin 22 Tammy Gregoire

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f, HL XJL3 VVIXNNI , '57 f im I IL OX VJU kxxxvv wt if DROPPING IN ON A TEN FOOT WAVE I see it coming, like a giant mountain of water. It grows bigger and bigger, closer and closer. The wave is to me now but bigger than before, I looked up to try to see the top of this giant monster. I could not. I turned me and my board around in a frantic hurry and started paddling, suddenly like a sea monster throwing me down to the water below, I dropped in. I was freefallirig like the astronauts do in space. Then with a hard jolt I hit the water. I was going so fast it felt like I was going to be blown off my board. All ofa sudden a shadow was cast over me. I looked up and a blanket of water cov- ered me. I saw my way out of this cylinder of water but would I make it? I saw that I would. As if I was shol out of a shotgun I boogied down the wave and ther back up to the lip and shot my board into the sky. I' looked like an arrow flying through the air. It came down with a splash about ten feet away. I swam to it got on, and paddled out once more. Jack Everett

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ff Eu .iE:J' Walking down the sandy shores I hear the noises and the roars Of waves breaking These sounds seem to lure Afeeling. l'm notsure Of its meaning. A feeling of regret within, l Becausel know all comes to an I And this, the beginning. end, Ji 2.5.5 i,.yV 5 V .N -5- N 3 TO YOU Love came to me the other day like a soft butterfly, I wasn't lookingfor it, I didn't see it coming, and then it was there. lt was so soft, so beautiful, and yet so fragile, the wind could break it. l'm being careful with that butterfly trying hard not to lose it. But it keeps flying short distances from my hand, yetalways returning. Cage it, you say? ah, that would prove fatal. Sometimes I sit and think Upon the rocks and the pink Wildflowers growing, Of how life and death meet On an endless shoreline to compete For usall. lVlelodie Grace no E x 'i CD 3 cn for a butterfly needs its freedom. Caged, itwill break its delicate wings upon the bars, and fade, and wither, and Then nothing will be left of that beautiful creature, except memories. And I, I would rather have the butterfly itself. So fly away, if you must and please return soon, But if you don't l'll try not to cry. die. CindyGoode