The sunbeam that wakes me and kisses my face
with meandering, warm, golden light.
The buttons I fasten, that fall into place,
Where the universe feels always right.
The blue of the sky that so subtly shifts
and commands my soft gaze every day.
The transient clouds, made of sweet, summer mist,
that go by as the breeze makes its way.
The sweet, silliness of the cookies we bake,
and the cinnamon-sugar we spread.
The rolling of waves and their sure, rhythmic wake,
Which pull gently as I lay in bed.
What can I dream with a heart so content?
Continuance, peace, and perpetualment.
Spring 2021. Constraints involved including a list of some sort and at least one question.