Tropical Time Loop

Sonnet composed under an endless Caribbean sun

By Laquesha BaileyPublished 3 years ago • 1 min read

This place has no four seasons, solely days

That weave and bleed beneath the beating sun.

Harsh light, sweat-lined limbs, briny to the taste,

An island "summer," rapture never done.

Spread-eagle, I endure the sea's assault,

Lids closed and nose upturned to greet the sky.

In, out, warm breeze imbued with piercing salt

Nips my neck, sweet song coaxes me to fly.

When days are mirrors, moments feel alike.

Unyielding heat turned heavenly hellfire;

Walled greenery, imposing prison spike;

The ocean, freeing boundary, looks dire.

☀️☀️ To be young means relentless taste for more,

☀️☀️ And being old, wanting joy felt before.

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About the Creator

Laquesha Bailey

22 years old literally, about 87 at heart. I write about self care, university life, money, music, books and whatever else that piques my interest.

@laqueshabailey

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