Morning hums in the gentle air,
a rustic bed is waiting there.
Warm sheets are rumpled, soft, and worn,
a quiet space where dreams were born.
Ornate lamps glow with amber light,
a round mirror reflects the night.
He lingers briefly, then he goes,
a man released from workday woes.
The door clicks shut, his steps are slow,
the lake ahead begins to glow.
A breeze drifts gently through the trees,
the water shimmers with great ease.
He settles down beside the shore,
his heart is restless, wanting more.
Sunshine soon spreads its painted hue,
each ripple shivers, fresh and new.
A canvas rests within his hand,
a picture drawn, not fully planned.
He lifts his eyes, then strokes again,
the scene takes shape with patient pen.
Bright view reflects a life long past,
yet every mark feels free at last.
This first day blooms without demand,
retirement finally lands.
– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy
Response to Sadje’s picture prompt on What Do You See # 307 September 22, 2025
This weeks prompt offered two picture options. This poem was inspired by both pictures. 💕


