Words that taste like lemonade,
On days that feel too short.
The sweetest serenade I’ve heard,
On yellow sandy shores.
Records that feel like country driving,
And blossoming juvenile frustrations.
Winding roads to everywhere,
And sun-drenched coconut destinations.
The lines whispered between the gaps,
Of early morning lethargy.
Honeyed dazes in the afternoon heat,
Punctuated with a feeling of sanguinity.
Middle of the turquoise ocean,
Glittering islands all around.
It’s the closest thing to perfection,
I have felt for quite a while.
Skin dripping in warm beer,
Golden sunset rolling in.
The range of colour in the sky,
Feels like it’s coming from within.
Sandy paths and barefoot strolls,
There’s nowhere I’d rather be.
Caught up in this beach side living,
It really feels like living to me.
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