A fragment of the paradox of travel.

The words below are a distillation of a conversation I had with a relucant holiday maker. It was clear to me that her motives for holidaying were confused and as she talked of The Sun, she meant compromise, losing out on choice and many other things.

Chase the shade
While it creeps to sun
Its nature is that of shift

A temporary respite that cowers
From the open sky

Some spend lives in his pursuit
And yet once they buy him and the right to hug him
They hide

A planet in imbalance
Eyes blink
And lids begin to burn