What if…
By: Tamara Lee Wheeler
If only the sun was "Mr. Sun"
and the invitation to play was eternal.
If only the inviting voice
of heat and warmth and just being
was louder than the dispassionate concrete blowing
cold air drenched in synthetic light.
We might go out again.
To the spaces that are just so pure and full of laughter,
lightheartedness and adventure.
Where animals are abundant and
chasing toads
has just as much value as crunching numbers
and playing grown ups.
Its still there you know... the invitation,
the sun, the days where you were fully content to have a body and just be.
Where oceans of water call
and splashing is not a crime.
Butterflies dance right in front of your face
playfully whispering the secrets of beauty with every flap of their wings.
Ladybugs and lizards, gold speckled stones and perfect skipping rocks.
The lazy days of summer where the grind fades into the buzzing of annoying flies.
You just have to put it down you know.
That string that tethers you to this idea of surviving and what it does to living.
Just let go..
Just for a breath...
a moment...
you could pick it up again...
but then,
there's those lazy days of summer
​
The Lazy Days of Summer
​
By: Tamara Lee Wheeler and Edited by ChatGPT
​
If only the sun were still Mr. Sun—an eternal invitation to play.
If only the voice of heat and warmth and simple being was louder than the dispassionate hum of concrete walls, cold air, and synthetic light.
We might go out again.
Out to the places pure and full of laughter, lightheartedness, and adventure.
Where animals roam freely and chasing toads carries as much value as crunching numbers or “playing grown-up.”
​
It’s still there, you know—the invitation.
The sun.
The days when you were simply content to have a body and just be.
​
Oceans calling you to splash without restraint.
Butterflies dancing inches from your face, whispering the secrets of beauty with every flutter.
Ladybugs and lizards, gold-speckled stones, and the perfect skipping rocks.
​
The lazy days of summer, where the grind dissolves into the soft buzzing of flies.
You just have to put it down, you know—
That string tethering you to the idea of merely surviving and what it costs you in living.
​
Let it go.
Just for a breath.
Just for a moment.
​
You can always pick it up again…
But then—there are those lazy days of summer.