Summertime…I want the living to be easy; and fun; and sexy. Summertime…stop with the usual routine and go find adventure in all its forms. Explore new places on earth and in your own mind. Expand your relationships. Risk, risk, risk for tomorrow we go back to our tedious routines; Pay bills, wash dishes, return calls.
Summertime, what are you waiting for? Let loose, sow some crazy quinoa. Times a wasting…stop fretting, worrying about the future, ruminating about the past. Go live large. Do something that wakes you up, puts you on your edge. The time is now, for its summertime. The days are long and the weather is warm. Time to show your beautiful body with pride. Don’t cover up those thighs, tummy, or ass. However you are be proud. Be bold. Give people something to talk about, judge, envy and admire. If you can’t travel explore where you live. Try something or someone new. Allow one of your shadow parts a day to come out and play. Maybe get a tattoo. Visit a dispenseary. Star in a play or sing out loud to your friends. Maybe perform one of your written pieces at Ivy and Carl’s place.
It’s summertime. Seize the sun rotation. Ka Sara Sara. Throw caution to the rainbows. Don’t you want an exhilarating story to tell to your grandchildren or your hospice workers so they appreciate that your weren’t always this old and slow? So they know whom they are dealing with? So they realize That Once you were a like a hurricane others watched with both excitement and trepidation wondering if you would indeed come their way? Or maybe just to amuse yourself as you lay waiting to transition. Why not have something intoxicating to write about in your memoirs.
It’s summertime, what are you waiting for? Why are you still here, listening to me? Go outside. Get to the water, or forest, or city or happy hour. Later you can nap, but not just yet. You haven’t earned it yet. I want to hear the adventure first. Make me breathless, holding on every word. Knowing that if I weren’t seeing you here now I’d be wondering if you survived. Make me laugh and cry with the absurdity and heartbreak of it. Arouse me with your erotic tales, inspiring me to spice up my own intimate life.
It’s summertime; the world is your puppy. Go play, show it whose boss. And don’t worry about the shit. Shit is just part of it. Clean it up and move on. (but be sure to use colored eco-friendly bags that you dispose of properly!) To the sunny field. The green meadow. The Farris wheel. The hot springs. Be sure to kiss. And get wet. And do summersaults, why not summersaults?
Well enough talk. I see you’ve gotten your hat and are politely waiting for me to finish so you can go. No worries I’m on my way out too. See you back in a month or three and we can drink wine and compare our delious, juicy, shocking stories.
Summertime, what are you waiting for? Let loose, sow some crazy quinoa. Times a wasting…stop fretting, worrying about the future, ruminating about the past. Go live large. Do something that wakes you up, puts you on your edge. The time is now, for its summertime. The days are long and the weather is warm. Time to show your beautiful body with pride. Don’t cover up those thighs, tummy, or ass. However you are be proud. Be bold. Give people something to talk about, judge, envy and admire. If you can’t travel explore where you live. Try something or someone new. Allow one of your shadow parts a day to come out and play. Maybe get a tattoo. Visit a dispenseary. Star in a play or sing out loud to your friends. Maybe perform one of your written pieces at Ivy and Carl’s place.
It’s summertime. Seize the sun rotation. Ka Sara Sara. Throw caution to the rainbows. Don’t you want an exhilarating story to tell to your grandchildren or your hospice workers so they appreciate that your weren’t always this old and slow? So they know whom they are dealing with? So they realize That Once you were a like a hurricane others watched with both excitement and trepidation wondering if you would indeed come their way? Or maybe just to amuse yourself as you lay waiting to transition. Why not have something intoxicating to write about in your memoirs.
It’s summertime, what are you waiting for? Why are you still here, listening to me? Go outside. Get to the water, or forest, or city or happy hour. Later you can nap, but not just yet. You haven’t earned it yet. I want to hear the adventure first. Make me breathless, holding on every word. Knowing that if I weren’t seeing you here now I’d be wondering if you survived. Make me laugh and cry with the absurdity and heartbreak of it. Arouse me with your erotic tales, inspiring me to spice up my own intimate life.
It’s summertime; the world is your puppy. Go play, show it whose boss. And don’t worry about the shit. Shit is just part of it. Clean it up and move on. (but be sure to use colored eco-friendly bags that you dispose of properly!) To the sunny field. The green meadow. The Farris wheel. The hot springs. Be sure to kiss. And get wet. And do summersaults, why not summersaults?
Well enough talk. I see you’ve gotten your hat and are politely waiting for me to finish so you can go. No worries I’m on my way out too. See you back in a month or three and we can drink wine and compare our delious, juicy, shocking stories.
RSS Feed
