Beach Bum

Milt Jackson taps along the xylophone

And I need to rest

I’m so worn out

The sounds of the music

Fade in and out

Heavy is the night

And all soft drumming has put me

In a catatonic state

Such is the life of a beach bum

Too much sun

And now, tired eyelids hold the weight

Of a thousand men

But now is not the time to over-think

Not everyone loves the beach life

And those who don’t

At this hour

Don’t matter much to me

Today seemed pretty close to perfect

Maybe, maybe not

Maybe I’m wrong

Maybe it wasn’t

Either way

I think I’ll have another go at it

Again, tomorrow

After all,

Practice makes perfect

At least that’s what I’ve been told

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

 

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