Impressionism Upon A Canvas

Pour me a tall glass of lemonade
As long as it is tart – most people
Make it far too sweet.

I’ll be in the front room with
My feet up and the overhead
Fan on high, the breeze feels so good.

I’ll laugh a little, stay up far too late
And do the exact same until it reflects
Some kind of numbing experience.

It is what I am.
It is what I have become.
It is my desire sunken.
Either the sun will set again
Or I will pass away.

To either of which I am okay.

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