WARM

Warmth lapping across my face
Not furnace hot, now late August
The cool water, my limbs embrace
Breezes blowing the leaves and brush

I have no memory of this peace
No constant highway fills my mind
I cannot recall this mental ease
Quiet has not been a friend of mine

This day of Indian summer skies
Unfamiliar relaxed my body is
No hidden agendas, half truths or lies
Simplicity still remains a twist

Among my quickened patter heart
Laid upon the bare shelf in my brain
Tucked away, gathering dusty art
Is bliss, by no other name.

--Diva