Southern Sun

flipflops

Hitting the cold
pavement with
my flip-flops.

Southern sun.
Beating down on my
pale exterior.

Soft whispers in the wind,
tranquillity, warmth.
Waves reaching
toes of joyful children.

Hospitality exchanged.
Strangers have
welcoming smiles.

Trees hold hands,
cooling shadows.

Birds awake with the sea.

Traveller eyes.
I explore.

Corner to corner.
Brick by brick.

Buildings – character – infusion – elegance – new.

Perplexed to feel a sense of
intimacy, freedom
in this foreign state.

Mother Nature

autumn

Birdsong,
liberated.

In the hands of mother nature.

Lost in thought,
in the trees, in life, in mind.

Golden crunch,
under my soles.

Toxin cleanse – joy and peace.

No restriction
to the adventure
of Sundays.

Squirrels roam, they paint
a happy picture.

At home – they prosper.

Giddy dogs, barking children.
Sun- playing hide and seek
behind the trees.

Pine, leaves and bark.
The mixture fills my nose.

Orange creeping,
Magenta, Violet, Blue.

Bitter cold, Autumn is lost.

Time to find my way back.

Maya Joelle

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Ruth Anne Garcia

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