Wind chime tings, life’s humid dreams,

stilted breeze on my cheek;

reality not what it seems

to both the proud and to the meek.

Citronella makes it’s vain attempt

to repel blood thirsty insects;

a smack of palm will condemn

them in mid-ingest.

Creator has given time,

this moment I will thank;

for beauty, sunset and sunrise,

and molten gold on lake.

 

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