AM I THE ONLY ONE . . . who daydreams from time to time?

Back in 1991, when I first moved to Florida, I lived out on Hutchinson Island.  For those who are not familiar with the area, it’s the barrier island between the Atlantic Ocean and The Intercoastal Waterway.  As the term barrier island indicates, that island more or less protects mainland Florida from the ravages of the ocean when it gets mean. 

I had a good friend who lived in a small trailer in Windmill Village, a small park located on the banks of The Intercostal.  It’s a place that caters to small trailers, most of which have a Florida room built onto them, as was the case with his.  It was also situated so that he could step out his back door onto a patio overlooking a really nice canal.  From that canal you could enter the Intercostal waterway, and go all the way out to the Atlantic Ocean.  For all intents and purposes, it was a perfect set-up for him, inexpensive, yet allowing access to all the things he loved, swimming, boating and fishing.

In those days, I had a 24-foot pontoon boat, which my friend allowed me to dock at his trailer.  We spent a good many hours traveling up and down the river on that boat, fishing and partying.  Although we never attempted it, we could have taken that pontoon boat up the Intercoastal all the way up to Vero Beach or all the way down to Jupiter, probably even further in both directions.

My friend was single and lived a pretty carefree lifestyle.  He didn’t work, having been injured on the job, and was living hand to mouth off from a small Workman’s Compensation settlement.  He spent nearly every day fishing or just lollygagging around and, to be honest, I’ll have to admit that I shared a good many of those days with him.  The following poem was a product of those days.

©By: R.L.KingFrom the book Memories & Time ©2017

Storm clouds rising in the eastern sky
pleased with the way he’s been getting by.

Afternoon delight at the dawn of the morn,
enjoying the calm before the storm.

Lunch on the veranda, anything he can grab,
though at times he holds out for lobster or crab.

The fish are biting, his dinner’s supplied,
she’ll stop by later, for their afternoon ride.

Afternoon “punch,” wonderful weather,
a beautiful sunset, spooning together.

Ancient remedies there for the asking
a loner’s life,,,, multi-tasking.

A full moon rising in that same eastern sky,
still pleased with the way he’s been getting by.


Gramps use’ta say
©R.L.King2012 #266

About: Life

“Every endin,,,
begins somethin new.”


EDITOR’S NOTE:  Please check us out at:

Amazon.com: Donna Hale Chandler: Books, Biography, Blog, Audiobooks, Kindle


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