All the boats were stuck The stiffness grew and grew All delicate were the anchors As I moved north. Beware the boats my child! The anchor sinks The dead it brings. All the trees shine and gleam as it comes towards us. The trees surround it, Tall and old. Now it's coming towards me; I run and run but it is rolling. I turn to heed the boat shining brown. It needs to go! I need to run before it catches me! I got safely home but I am not done Yet. Ellie P.