Lagoon glistened.
Proto-waves lapped volcanic rock.
Go on, Signore, dive in!
It sang dal Segno.
It's fine! It's your sign.
Dophin-print towel shrugged from shoulders.
A heap at his feet,
as he kicked away worn leather sandals.
Brush back hair.
Leaving sunglasses perched upon nose.
Without second view.
He ran up and he flew.
Water and man becoming one.
Pushed up from sandy floor, he rose.
Through crystal waters,
As warm as any Sunday night bath before school, or now the dirge of 8 to 6.
(It's inflation of the 9 to 5, but that's all left back in his other life.)
Now, this was THE LIFE!
He grabbed his glasses as they floated past
to reposition them to their rightful place.
Now, this was THE Rightful Place. Delightful!
He sighed, laid back to rest on
salty soothing cradle of
gentle rocked sea,
crooned to by the sizzle of sun's ray.
This was where he belonged.
Where he should be.
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