2011 - Day 238

A week from now we're on our way,
To sing and dance and laugh and play,
Connect the dots, the crew of crews,
Our lines converge, there are no rules.
Creation in it's Grandest form,
The memories beyond the norm,
Wander through the breathing streets,
Hang by the pool, hide from the heat,
Will likely come and go too quick,
But guess what? It'll still be SICK.