Contentment

Bulbous cumulus humilis
interspersed amid azure.
An armada.
A fleet of floating moisture.
That was the sky.
No teddy bears, continents or abstract objects.
Nothing more imaginative than their own bulk,
But that was all that was needed

A watcher, a waiter,
slouched on an embankment.
A dreamer.
A keeper of wishes wanted.
That was him.
No chores, worries or niggling desires.
Nothing particular to do other than sit in absorption.
But his time was not wasted.

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About Penlateral

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This entry was posted in original fiction, poems, poetry, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

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