The warm wind is blowing on the
eve of the storm,
building and growing, swelling and
rising in the distance, nearing,
but I do not care for the promised
tempest,
I do not care for safeguards and
security,
I must run through the still calm
waves,
splashing, laughing gleefully,
exuberant,
feel the fingers of the warm
breeze
run along my legs and arms,
through my hair,
have the sun touch my wanting skin,
feast my eyes on the golden sands
stretched out before me,
I plunge headlong into dizzying
pleasure.
……not even the storm is promised
to me
and it will come whether I hide or
not,
so for now, for now I will play….
Can't live in fear of the storm. Storms will always come. Enjoy the moment now.
ReplyDeleteGood attitude, friend Shadow … smiles … U havin a happy Winter so far? Love, cat.
ReplyDeleteLulu: "This sounds like fun to me! I'm always ready to play!"
ReplyDeleteCharlee: "Hmm, storm coming? Chaplin and I will stay inside and sleep."