The charm
of afternoon hours
keep slipping away
so lazily past
the rolling sea

A growing pile
of steel bottle tops
litter the sand at my feet
along with nagging cares,
which are beginning to
feel as far away as home

At this rate,
if the warm island breeze
continues to rustle
the palm fronds just so
and the fresh ceviche
keeps coming, cool and sweet,

Those dark circles
will disappear and
that old, endless string
of 4:30AM yesterdays
could be mistaken
for some haunting dream

It should take
just two more days, I surmise,
of this tropical clime
to regain enough strength
to realize that I've been
foolishly stumbling,
blindly under some kind
of strange spell

Then it comes,
clear and crisp
as the cathedral bell
I breathe easy
and my mind is freed
what we consider vacation
is truly life, indeed.

---

*I am an American novelist, poet, traveler, and Steemit enthusiast. If you’ve enjoyed my poetry, autographed copies of my handmade poetry chapbooks, Emancipation, and The Greatest of Secrets are for sale now on Peerhub for a limited time.

Eric Vance Walton - Media

www.ericvancewalton.net
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