Desert Island

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The route to happiness

Is to expect less of things,

so they say,


to leave alone the sorrow, 

the slaughter and

put your feet up awhile


and marvel at whatever 

small mercies materialise 

before you;


the universe of dust

in afternoon light,


the steam spiralling 

from the coffee cup

resting upon your chest,


the sparrows 

leaping into the bright blue

beyond the dirty window,


the cat breathing 

quietly beside you,


this island of time 

shrinking from you,

before the world returns

lapping at 

your feet.

◄ Casteraways

How To Think About This ►


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Tue 3rd Aug 2021 22:41

Enchanting in the gentle style of your writing as I recall it on other occasions, sadly too infrequent - mood and feeling personified Tom.


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M.C. Newberry

Tue 3rd Aug 2021 12:33

Indeed. The miracles of small pleasures that ease the mind and
give living that extra zest. We tend to overlook them in the
frenetic rush that we have imposed upon our existence.

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