Ataraxia
When whistles in my drums remain
loud engines roaring from a plane
echoes to drive oneâs mind insane
such sounds that misbehave
A babyâs cry not so soothing
a conversation of a desperate wooing
a neighborâs instrumental thumping
oh if my lips were brave
The hammering of disrespect
high-pitched rhythms from just a speck
a few kin grumble in effect
my temper I must save
Upon ocean waves with calming tones
a tepid wind with gentle groans
a soothing soul to caress my bones
ataraxia I crave
© Donna J. Sanders
Excerpt from her book âAtaraxiaâ
Now Available for Purchase $13.95 at:
http://www.ctupublishinggroup.com/donna-j.-sanders.html
⢠Also available on Amazon.com by Title
Photo Credit: © Sonja Jordan/imageBROKER/Corbis
