Poems

The Perfect Day

7/18/18

Soft vintage hues of gold,
Sounds that are weary
Sounds that are old.
Laughter, banter,
The guitar strummed in canter.
There is no time,
There is no ticking of the clock.
But with every lyric, every line,
You can feel it stop.

Butterflies fluttering,
Inspired muttering.
Strumming, strumming,
Please don't stop.