My daydreams lack a focus. They float by like a cloud.
It is as though much logic is simply not allowed.
Should plans besmirch my reverie, I’m sure to blot them out,
for my thoughts are vagabonds—aimless, without a doubt.
A mortarboard and tassel lurk far within my past,
and I fear the plans they made simply didn’t last
I lie here in my lounge chair, getting too much sun.
I should raise the umbrella, for sunburn is no fun,
but I cannot stir myself. I’m simply far too lazy.
Retirement would be easier if all the skies were hazy!
Prompt words today are tassel, blot, focus and besmirch. Here are links: