When Vacation Ends

Carefully planned
Many months in advance
To minimize the chances
Of untoward happenstance,
Two weeks out of a year
To bask in the sun
And to make each day’s work
The quest to have fun.

Sand and surf
And balmy air,
Not clammy but comforting
With fresh island fare
Available each day
At about any time
Until the last day’s
Dampens the shine.

If this place
Had been the home of Noah,
God may not have
Required him to say

A giant Monday awaits
At the other end
Of a long ride
In the sky,
But memories endure
Within the mind’s eye.
There will be another
And no two are ever
The same,
It is rather odd but
That we give them all
The same name.

Away we have been
And to home we return
A shade or two darker
But none of us burned;
(The Sun feels good
But can be lethal,
This we have learned.)
It’ll fade soon enough
As our work lives resume
Until next vacation
And the
Oceanfront room.

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