Neon Beach — a poem about reawakening to joy

Neon Beach

Bass licked by tropical tones—
sunset tinged with candy ribbons.
Melodies fill up my sea and my sky
and I run over with temptations.
Once, this space was empty.
Twice, this space was home.

I thought I'd tasted the last bit of thrill
and I was content to leave before the encore.
All too willing to drift into the star-packed night,
dozing through the drive, unconscious of the road home.
The last thing I longed for
was to stay and sip and sway—
to groove into the midnight hour,
finding neon patterns between the notes
and tracing God's blueprints with sandy toes.

I thought I was too worn and frayed
to last till the morning—to share this sunrise.
To let conversation tumble and laughter bubble.
To watch powder blue waves lap at the shore
while loving the moment and planning for more.

But the muse has been good to me
and she returned with full bottles
and plenty of hot coals.
She won't pour the drinks
and she won't stoke the fire,
but she'll provide and wait patiently
for me to smile at the responsibility.
It isn't effort when it's done lovingly.
It isn't work when you love the dream.

I'll sleep on the beach
with your arms encircling me.
I'll wake when the band begins to play.