If I hope for pleasant presents presented on a
plate,
Phone calls or messages that do not present,
Of gifts of loving sentiment that do not appear,
It matters not, I have my own omissions to fear.
So easy to say, poor me, why don’t people come
to me?
I’m a lovely person, intelligent too,
I could be so good with you.
So easy to be this way inclined,
Forget to admire what is all around.
What have I done to deserve these spectacular
Cyprus views?
The changing light on distant hills,
Shadows that glide, under dappled white clouds,
The sweet light breeze worrying the pages of a
book.
Appreciation, has no room for expectations
unfulfilled.