poetry

Sunday Serenity

 

 

I feel obliged to write

About the sun on my skin,

The ripples at my feet,

The birds in the sky,

Simply because they bring

Me so much joy!

As they do to the cyclists,

The fishers,

The dog walkers,

The slowing runners…

It feels rude not to

Give in to such temptations

As to sit by the canal

And think on the finer

Things in life.

Like the warmth,

The stillness,

The serenity;

To perch on a worn

Wooden bench

And watch wheels,

Count footsteps,

Reflect on reflections,

And capture such a delicate shimmer.

 

I lay back

And feel light like

The touch of wind;

 

Feel spring-like,

Feel alive and well

Like the freckles darkening

On my bare legs;

 

Like the grass kissing me green…

 

This is the life.

 

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