It was just the place to be.
Perfect for me and my bruised tooshie.
(I had to type it, it rhymes)
Not fancy, not schmancy - no fluffy rug.
But perfect, and decadent, snug as a bug.
Take off your ruffles, and sink into there...
Where cast iron love, so perfectly cups your squishy derriere.
Some rose petals for goodness, nature's gift...
Sprinkle them in, and watch them drift.
Then slowly get in, as your heart begins to shout.
What's this nonsense all about?
Looking up through the trees.
What's that I see?
A couple of bees.
Butterflies, so many.
All sorts of vines twining, fun for relaxingly spying.
Morning glory, passion fruit, and pumpkin too.
So very cozy.
A summer dream.
I flipped from side to side.
I blew bubbles.
And left mighty clean.
And pruny too...
Because I had to convince myself to get out.
Some of the perks of oven hot air.
Swimming in a giant ball and claw foot tub.
En plein air.