The room heated from the sun’s rays,
Absorbed the cool vapour from icy lemonades.
Her legs crossed, her hands trembling slightly,
The idea of the fantasy was just outside the window before her.
Everyone buzzing and fussing,
Telling everyone else to be the person of ordinary prudence,
Shoving them further away from all they have,
Obscuring the very clarity they seek.
Mistakes are made, compromises willingly accepted,
Yet that should not occur.
Or so they say.
The idea helps by stretching far and away,
Melding the indigo haze and maize clouds, forming harmony.
There it is – within reach,
So she sits calmly on this warm day and gently smiles.
Another dewy glass, ballpoint pen in hand,
Alone for a mere moment.