Driftwood

Golden air through half-shut blinds,
Slow waves curling in quiet lines,
Bare feet tapping on wooden floors,
Lazy jazz hums through open doors.
Nothing planned but a mellow sway,
Fruit tea sweating in the heat of day,
Piano loops soft, rhythm slides,
Afternoon dreams where silence hides.
Driftwood—floating with no pace,
Washed in sunlight, soft embrace,
Every minute drifts, no need to rush,
Summer slows down with a golden hush.
Old books open but pages stay still,
Ceiling fan hum in the midday chill,
Notes dance light on an easy stream,
Driftwood days feel like a dream.
Nothing planned but a mellow sway,
Fruit tea sweating in the heat of day,
Piano loops soft, rhythm slides,
Afternoon dreams where silence hides.
Driftwood—floating with no pace,
Washed in sunlight, soft embrace,
Every minute drifts, no need to rush,
Summer slows down with a golden hush.
Floating hours, no need for clocks,
Summer’s language in distant docks,
Letting go, just moving slow,
Driftwood rhythm is all I know.
Driftwood—floating with no pace,
Washed in sunlight, soft embrace,
Every minute drifts, no need to rush,
Summer slows down with a golden hush.