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a song of gallimaufry!                
   of that lively—                                                    
lonel­y street                                                           ­ 

a Troubadour a'play
his fingers clog at fret passé
                   as charming women bravely seek―――――

                              “Red rouge and diamond eyes of gray
                             this fair and mellow-mannered mare!”
                                    his brilliant eyes went spying (and
they stole the skies of May from there!)              

                  to spite the clement nightmare!
     of that pungent—
porter street                                                

the cleats of noble mounts
they pace the pleasance he recounts
                his smile and case lay wide and chic――――

                                   “Red felt, if you would be so kind,
                                              solicit further coin and bill!”
                                 his learn’ed ears went hearing (and
what ditty does remind him still?)                      

of the love and subtle thrill!
       of that gloom ick—
                         ridden street

a drunk man kinks apace
an eager look be on his face
                 in wayward want of his mystique―――――

                                         “Ready nigh my pick-n-anchor
                                            pick on of mutt-n-mutineer!”
                                       his gentle heart went jarring (as
did he of sob'ring rancor spear)                          

t’ward gameless                                                  

watersweet                                                     ­ 
of that lone yet-                                  
lively    
                                                                ­          scene                 . . .

Words dancing to no beat
inside my head, so discreet

No one governing, just free
Length and order up to me

Other humans have no affect
These are only mine, perfect

Share yours and I listen clear
Share mine and I disappear

Words are lines and curves with  sound
Mix and match, result profound

The rock, a perfect place to be seated and become enveloped and lost in the sounds which surround you.
Nature at its finest.
The whipping of the wind, blowing on your skin and through your hair.
A pleasant sensation mixed with the thunk of the waves hitting the shore and rock.
A rather unique way of saying hello with each passing moment.
A combination of the wind and waves creates this aura of serenity.
A calming only experienced by the person in the moment.
Nature is full of life, and sounds which is not appreciated enough.
The rock is teeming with life.
The little flies, who in turn play a part in the annoyance of biting your skin. Everything coexists together and it's a shame any of it has to be interrupted because people came into the land to essentially take over and share in the beauty of the land.
Nothing quite says brisk like a dip in the lake while partial cloud cover and wind blows by.
I want to stay here, forever.