St Petersburg, Florida

Yes, the sky was this blue, the sand this white and the clear blue water, pristine. You would dive and swim like a mermaid, run free like a crab, fly over like a bird, breathe fresh air endlessly, immerse yourself into the abyss of serenity, the endless frisky breeze and the effervescent sound of the wind. Sunglasses on, you would lay on the ornate groovy beach towel, smile and temporarily forget that nothing else mattered. Just amazing and complete utter stillness of the zen type. St Petersburg, the west coast of Florida.


The Angst of the Sounds


As the clouds begin to stream
The night gently moves in, unabashful
With its many ghosts and fears
And its many stories to tell
It pours in, looking for a place to park
And a soul to save.
But allow me to tell you one more
To help you fall asleep:
In the quiet hours of the night
The wind blowing unadulteratly
An angel appears
Tucking you to bed
Sniffing the cravings of the night
Silently watching over you
So, my dear my bell, say hello to the angst of the sounds
The perils of the darkness
Sleep tight, the angel says
And happy dreams!

© Angela Aguiar