Wistful - a day on the beach

Spring seems to have glossed over

Of seasons, I have lost track

Missing is the clichéd may shower

While for the beach, today I pack

 

Sand under my feet, I can bear

Scorching nights will appear

I make it my mission to care

For a sense of disarray brings fear

 

Itching for the pleasant tropics

Willing to meander the trudge

A backyard destination, nothing exotic

In peaceful serenity, to indulge

 

Bells and whistles don’t matter

If only I could turn off my thoughts

On the sand, I stay splattered

Sans the glamor and the gloss

 

Forever the workhorse, that’s me

Harried life, a price that I pay

I look forward to a day by the sea

On this calm and gorgeous day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Prompt Courtesy

I wait in hope

Giddy I am in anticipation

Of the enchanting day’s arrival

The joy I could not contain

For my love for him, was primal

 

Fanatical, in my preparations

I buzz around being busy

Every little bit, perfect for him

I drive myself into a frenzy

 

One thing makes it all worth

His look of love, with a yelp of delight

My heart swells in contentment

Everything else feels just trite.

Valued veneer

Cherished life I lead

Seemingly, from outside

Strong in the face of

It; adversity I scoff

 

I babble incessantly

Within my own entity

Prized be damned

Upright, I barely stand

 

The façade stays subtle

Through motions as I muddle

This life, I have conned

Survival I have spawned

El Yunque

 

Like a speck of dust,

On my messy table

I stand in awe at

The foothills of the mount

 

The enormity strikes

Spell bound, I remain

Multitudes of magnitude

I try to envision

 

Gentle giants they are

Staying put in peace

Letting life flourish

Standing tall, untouched

 

Refreshed and renewed

I head back home

The moment was the end

the beginning and all in between

 

A half-full realist

 

 

Laying under the stars,

A romantic notion,

While I explore and pursue

Alas, not come to fruition

 

That grass holds bugs,

Comes to mind

How about bears?

Chasing my behind

 

It could rain and pour

While I scramble for shelter

Or in summer nights

In torturous heat swelter

 

Seemingly is about the art of

In life, slowing down

But the pragmatic in me

Dismisses it with a frown