A Week Without Socks.
There I was.
Beyond sand-burned restless toes
Now stilled beneath my deskbound woes.
No mails to write no calls to make
No complex thoughts to navigate.
Barefoot and tributary washed
I was wind-cooled freedom stepped
Jumping waves and chasing roll of tide
As far as eyes could call.
And I must - I must remember
The melting sundae blend of sky
To heat haze shores and on.
I felt warmth of gritted soles and feet
Laid down and spilled on red-hot rocks
That led toward the edge of sands
Where men like I must run to find
The blessed kiss that ocean always tells
To souls now wearing polished shoes
And stifled reign of socks.