A little breeze came. And went.
And it came and went. Then
It came and went again.
And again. But,
The day was smokin hot.
And it’s a breeze, right?
And I’m a Colorado boy at heart,All the damn day long.
Not born; but raised.
And mountain tops they
Should be praised. But those beach boy
Tunes—they slay me man:
Gettin paid and stayin tan—
Glass of moondust in my hand— And those backbeat vibes?
They won’t unpack:
Come ride the woeful curl of jade—
Miss Lady Luck’s got throws to save—
Crest the ocean-burl and toss—
You’re pure-white pearls
On a pirate’s grave—
(c)2022 by Sanguine Woods. All rights reserved.