Breathless

The depleted quality of the air
Not enough oxygen for two to share
A scorching heat intense in its ferocity
Leaves me questioning my impetuosity.

A Valencian sun beats down on me.
No shade to find no bowing tree.
Trickling sweat on my brow
Release me from this tortuous heat NOW

I imagined myself wafting in a perfumed haze.
That my beauty would amaze.
Drinking wine and eating tapas.
Now none of that frippery matters.

I trudge along ten paces behind.
My energy levels are low I find.
Instead of strolling hand in hand.
We look like players in a marching band.

A holiday meant to be such fun.
If I had a choice from it I would run.
Instead of looking like a Greek goddess
I just look a bloody mess.

Taylor Crowshaw