Rumbles have started growing louder. 
Now there appear bright flashes across the sky; 
Filled with glee, thundering sadistically. 
I admit they appear absolutely splendid to me.
Blue, white, dull grey and yellow.
No one ever says that's a great colour combo.
But is there a sight prettier than the grey clouds
Trying to cover the tints of soft crimson,
That sparkle throughout the infinitude,
...

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This rumination came from growing awareness of my mortality which, in turn, is generated and measured by the expanding list of things once given or assumed that, alas, are no longer possible.

The Mirror

How shall I talk to you, my friend?

How should I regard you

(and will I care)

as you grow ever older before my gaze

while I stay young?

Who are you? Dare I look on yo...

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There's nothing that can beat
Walking along the beach
With the waves hitting your feet
In the scorching heat

Miles of soft, golden sand
I run some through my hand
Waves splashing against the shore
Is a sound that I adore

Feeling the warm breeze
Puts me at such ease
I tilt my head up towards the sun and smile
And close my eyes for a while

This beach is my paradise
Its tranquility...

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