All year long we think vacation, We study atlases and maps, We spread brochures and catalogs In stacks across our laps.
North or South or East or West? Which way shall we roam? Sometimes we have no destination, And we end up in parts unknown.
There’s something about the open road, That has a curious mystique, A challenge, a dare, a go-anywhere, It’s exciting and unique.
Who knows what lies beyond each curve, Or around a ‘blind man’s bend,’ Or over a hill or down a gulch, Or where the road will end?
Who knows what panoramic views Will stretch out beneath our feet, After a narrow, winding road Has led us up a mountain peak?
We search for Nature’s monuments, Like canyons carved from solid rock, And we want to see the redwood trees, And the geysers, blowing off their tops.
We marvel, too, at man-made things, At men’s great engineering feats, Amazing bridges, awesome tunnels, Colossal damns of strong concrete.
We see lights at night in bustling cities, We drive congested freeways after dark, We watch silhouetted cars and drivers, Changing lanes with frantic darts.
We’re frightened by gas guzzling big rigs, Spewing fumes and heat behind, Then looming up in rearview mirrors, Monsters of a modern kind.
But with skill and Nature’s blessings, We move somehow out of their way, We escape those huge marauders, And we pursue our holiday.
Then off the throughways and the turnpikes, We sit back – relaxed, at last, We head now for open country, And ease up on the speed and gas.
The peace and quiet of rural roads Inspires one to a slower pace, Birdsongs are heard through open windows, And gentle breezes wash one’s face.
There’re no dull roads across the plains, For each reveals surprising things, One only needs to slow and look At all the memory-making scenes.
We take a break at a rustic inn, It’s off the beaten path … and quaint, The food is fresh and served with smiles, One eats hearty … no restraints.
Small towns stir up sweet, dreamy thoughts, And one sometimes forgets what’s real, How restful are these little towns, What wistful envy travelers feel.
Farmlands, too, are most appealing, Farmers wave atop their plows, Mailboxes lined up in rows, Cawing crows and mooing cows.
Silos, barns, and fresh fruit stands, Kids and dogs at school bus stops, Leafy, shade trees shielding farm homes, Fields of swaying, growing crops.
Lake shores, sea shores, river banks, Babbling brooks and waterfalls, Good for toes, and minds, and souls, And cobweb cleansing over all.
Walkways, pathways, mountain trails, The air is fresh; breathe deep within, Now stop and smell the flowers, This chance may not come again.
Then much too soon our trip is done, And we silently steal home, Our thoughts still in some country inn, Or on a mountain trail we roamed.
Permanent pictures, just like fixtures, Firmly installed within our minds, And they’ll see us through, Until our next vacation time.
The lesson of the oyster, is something we should heed, It is a beautiful lesson, we all need, An irritant, a sand pebble, gets into it you see It definitely annoys the oyster, that you know, oh gee,
But the oyster takes the challenge And make it really nice, The oyster turns the grain of sand, Into a pearl, let that suffice,
So when life gives you grains of sand, That really irritate you, Just think of the little oyster, And follow the oyster’s lessen too,
Life always has some challenges, Some good and some are bad, But change them to a Blessing And your life then will be glad.
An hour of leisure and soft memories As I lie in the bathtub with the bubbles tickling me Fragrance of lilac wafts through the air And the man that I love is standing right there
Down on his knees with a glint in his eyes His hands covered with soap and I hear a soft sigh Deep under the water his hands reach and find I tremble with pleasure and excitement inside
An hour of leisure, a night of romance My breasts barely covered with bubbles that dance His hands gently rubbing my skin til it’s clean My body all pink with a shimmery sheen
Delicious the feeling that hides deep inside Brought to the surface with soap and a sigh I reach out my arms and implore him for more As I pull him into my bath and quietly purr
I feel like a bird with a broken wing, trying to fly, but not succeeding. Each morning I awake, feeling refreshed, ready to take my chance at flight. But then the wind blows in the voices of doubt. I crawl back inside my nest, destined to be broken forever.
Have you ever been to blue city? It is located in the state of heartache and pain. To find it, just follow the trail of tears. The weather here is always cloudy, no sunshine in sight. People travel here often, some stay longer than others. Activities here include : frowning, crying, and sleeping. Once you visit, you will never want to come back. But, life sometimes sends you back. I recommend visiting the Sunshine State instead.
When the war first started, She made a promise she would keep, That every night she’d write him, Before she went to sleep.
So, every night she did just that, And gave him all the news, Her intent – to keep his spirits up, And keep him from the blues.
A typical letter read like this, “The kids are well, and so am I, The lemon tree has lemons now, I must make a lemon pie.”
But between the lines, her message said, “I love that little tree, Remember when you planted it? You said it was for me.”
“But in my heart of hearts, I knew, It was your love for lemon pie, And my first pie was disastrous, We laughed until we cried.”
“We had to eat it with a spoon, You even tried a straw, Remember how I threatened you If you ever told your Ma?”
“School is in full-swing now, George Junior made the team, He’s old enough and big enough, And tough enough, it seems.”
But between the lines, her message was, “Oh, honey, he’s so small, I should have told him no, I s’pose, He’s just a child, after all.”
“His heart was really set on this, I couldn’t turn him down, His helmet almost swallows him, But he treats it like a crown.”
“Carole’s on the Dean’s List, The third time in a row, Sweetheart, she’s so smart, She has your brains, you know.”
“And pretty, too, our little girl, You would be so proud, She lights up any room, And stands out in a crowd.”
But what she really wished to say Was somewhere between the lines, “I’m worried about our Carole, I think things aren’t so fine.”
“Her new boyfriend is too old for her, She cannot understand or see, That the world is her oyster now, And there’s more than one fish in the sea.”
“Oh, dear, if you were only here, It would help so much, A daughter needs a father, Sometimes a mother’s not enough.”
“Your mom called the other day, And asked us all for Sunday brunch, I plan to go.” “The kids won’t, though, They told me so up-front.”
“After a certain age, you know, Some family things become a chore, George Junior’s reached that age now, Hard to persuade him anymore.”
She dropped her pen; the words rushed out, “Oh, honey, it’s so tough … so hard, If you were here, he’d want to go, You’d play ball with him out in the yard.”
“Your mother doesn’t look too well, I think she needs us more, She began to age the day you left, The day you went to war.”
“Well, it’s late, dear, I must go, I guess that’s all that’s new, Take care – stay safe – write when you can, The kids and I love you.”
She felt a tear upon her cheek, As she laid down her pen, “I cannot say how much I miss you,” Between the lines was written then.
“I ache to have you hold me, I long for just your touch, The pain I feel is very real, I am missing you so much.”
She picked up her pen again, “Enclosed please find some snaps, Silly shots of the kids and me, I hope they’ll bring some laughs.”
marnysensation.com 