2017
two thousand seventeen
Twenty-Seventeen
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The sandpiper trots along the white sand beach,
Pecking at morsels too small to see.
It's not wise for us to feed the birds,
so he works at it constantly.

The rising tide slaps at my feet
As I scan the Gulf of Mexico.
I'm thankful for this time I have,
That I'm not up north, not shoveling snow.

The horizon stretches out forever, it seems,
On brilliant blue and turquoise water
For a few brief moments of my life,
Nothing else seems to matter.

Time is my only enemy here.
I wish to never leave this place.
The sun slides quickly to the west,
But puts a smile upon my face.

The bright sky and the sand and surf,
It seems to me, it's "Done Too soon."
But a warm night comes and soothes me more,
As I sit awaiting a perfect moon.

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1 Comment to "Treasure Island"

  1. Anonymous Said,

    Well done. John

    Posted on Wed Sep 29, 10:05:00 AM EDT

     

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