The sun was high in the clear azure sky.
I sat in the middle of a grass field,
Under the shadow cast by a large oak,
The large oak that I was leaning against.
The summer sun brought a sweltering heat,
That was relieved only by a cool breeze.
And on this Summer's afternoon sat I,
With a journal in one of my two hands,
And a trusty old Bic in the other.
It was simply too nice to try to write,
All of my thoughts turnéd into a mush,
Like that of my mom's homemade applesauce.
Resistance was futile, that I could see.
So I gave into the warm Summer's day,
Closing the lids of my eyes, feeling peace.