If I wait for my ship to come in with the finest of sails, I may just miss the ride.
Maybe that’s where the beauty in aging comes in.
You finally understand what your elders always told you.
Monday’s smooth as glass.
Drop a line as this day’s fine.
Reel in peace and joy.
Rush hour at the lake.
No one’s late. They meditate.
Slow lanes sail in peace.
Monday morning blues.
Skip the news, let’s take a cruise.
We can always dream.
Blue still shines through gray.
Small boats will sail, without fail.
Peace rolls into shore.
Guess who loves the lake?
Water makes my body quake.
Sailboats make me smile.
Morning views are best.
Full of peace with few regrets.
Worries sail on by.