How I love these palms
that for years of my life
felt so distant.
Even with an abundance at my fingertips
here in this tiny beach town,
upon reflection, it dawns
I seldom touch them.
I only admire their gleaming wispiness,
soft in the thick, warm air.
Oddly enough, when the palms fall to the ground
I find them less appealing
even though they are really the same.
But Golden Hour palms sway alone,
The sun sees her reflection with a tint of life
And the word happy receives a visual definition.
Welcome to the tropics
where neon is a neutral
and vibrancy is the natural state of being.
The summery air squeezes your heart
and despite being in a place meant for holiday
a small piece of it feels like home.
Striving to be better. http://sincerely-soallowed.tumblr.com/
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