Laid back or laziness

                                          A laid-back life is like a breeze that moves the willow tree, It keeps you calm and gives you room to breathe and just be free. But laziness is like a fog that keeps you in your bed, It takes away the open road and leaves a cloud instead. The peaceful mind enjoys the sun and watches clouds roll past, It knows just when to take a break and when to move at last. The lazy heart forgets to plant the seeds that make us grow, And misses out on all the joy that busy people know. One is a choice to slow things down and let your spirit rest, To look around at what you have and feel that you are blest. The other is a heavy heavy weight that holds your feet in place, And keeps you from the happy path and finishes the race. So rest your bones beneath the shade when all your work is through, But do not let the sleepy dust take over all...
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The whispers

They whisper in the coffee shop, a breath,

A fragment of a story, hinting death

Or scandal, or a hidden, newfound grace,

That flickers on each anxious, curious face.


The teller starts with, "Did you hear the news?"

And ends with speculation, soft confusions.

The barber hums, his clippers catch the light,

And pauses just to give the tale a new flight.


He doesn't know the hero or the sin,

But adds a layer where the facts wear thin.

The checkout girl, her movements quick and neat,

Adds a new detail, savory and sweet.


No one can trace the source, the single start,

Of this strange legend woven in the heart.

The story changes with each passing mouth,

A winding river flowing to the south,


It grows, it shrinks, it gains a richer tone,

But the core detail is forever unknown.

It's in the air, a hum, a low vibration,

The town's own, private, dark imagination.


A phantom scandal, or a whispered crime,

That fills the empty, unadventurous time.

And though it binds them, in a common quest,

The truth is never put to the test.


So let them talk, and let the rumor bloom,

And cast its shifting shadows in the gloom.

For what's a town without its one great lie,

The perfect story that will never die.

It is the secret they all love to keep,

That keeps their restless, dreaming minds from sleep.

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