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Friday, June 25, 2021

Post 165: Sunset at Steppingstone Park

 




 

It’s 8:30 p.m. do you know where you heart it is?

I know where mine is,

It’s here at the park with my mother and brother,

As we sit and watch the sun set.

 

The lights have just come on,

And in the distance the sun has gone to sleep,

And soon we will too.

 

But not yet,

Not yet.

 

There are still wisps of sun decorating the sky like cotton candy or Kris Kringle’s beard only orange not white or pink.

 

Tattered American flags decorate the dock fluttering in the wind like my heart.

They are a reminder of a Memorial Day gone by,

Gone, but not forgotten.

 

Two planes fly in the distance in opposite directions,

And though I hear them I really can’t tell what sound is which plane,

The sky grows in orange brilliance, and puts the LED lights to shame.

 

Sailboats and motorboats bob and bob,

And I try to ignore the mosquitoes as long as I can.

 

It was so hot today more like August than June.

I hid inside to escape and fell asleep by the air conditioner, and felt more like a bear than a man.

 

But here at the dock tonight no AC is needed at all,

Only a gentle breeze.

 

We are witnesses to God’s paintbrush,

And even the beautiful Asian women that walk past me like Gatsby’s green lights are forgotten for a while.

 

For beauty nature has no rival,

For it’s sunsets there is no compare,

They are truly a marvel,

Steppingstone Park please wait for us,

How we all long to visit you and stare.


 


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