Wave of life

Sitting in this old lawn chair
Listening to the waves
Chime in unison with the seagulls
Lapping rhythms mesmerize my thoughts
That seem to come to to a halt
As the wind picks up
The rocks don't move as the waves hit harder
Translucent water with a rainbow of natural color
The sand hits my eyes as to yield to my hearing
Only the lapping waves and the sound of distant children's laughter
Is allowed to invade my mind
It's a sacred place I come to get away from all the blame
That no one seems to claim now days
Could I come back to this tranquility when I need it again
Will the children's whines remind me of the seagull
Flying higher with no care or will this peaceful time
only come on my next visit
Or my second beer
Can I be strong and beautiful as the earth tone rocks
That glisten below the waves
Hiding from the sand
I want to come back here in my mind
Tomorrow as Monday approaches all to soon

The Gold Coin

What is life all about?

Is it always reaching for something just beyond our reach

like a piece of gold

with its brilliant rays?

We don't really need it 

We don't really desire it other than the fact

that others desire it more

Why then do we reach for something 

that will only further our debt in our wallet 

and not matter as it makes heavy our pockets?

Why is it that we desire what we can not have

and do not need?

Is the house really in that bad of shape

that the patched holes hide a story that only shapes its character?

Does the family have so much noise that we forget 

the comfortable silence that took so long to build?

Where will my children call home

if our home has moved a half dozen times?

Another chapter in our families story is being written

Do I dare make the marks over the lines

that have already been written?

Should the story always start with a clean page

as each new day promises 

as the alarm rings

and dog barks

Our story only looks worn as we view it through our own 

prescription glasses

Aren't books that are aged and tired

more valued than the synthetic covers and plastic bindings of the new ones?

Is treasure we look for like the new jeans my daughter bought at a high price?

They are worn, fringed, torn and faded

(just like ones I used to wear

but longed for others without holes)

Is it that we have always had the gold that others have

but as time changes

someone

somewhere

takes our vision away from the simple, mundane life we have grown accustomed to?

A simple life

One that has gold already

somewhat tarnished

that needs to polished

and treasured 

as a priceless coin