Sonnet #1

The bungalow in question

Near latitude zero, on an island in the sea;
there, by the shoreline, our bungalow hangs.
Planning our days means letting things be,
and our hearts are seldom filled with pangs.
Here, the days pass slowly, but not idley
cause there's much swimming and reading to be done.
For a freshwater shower, we all wish mildly,
but with the passage of time, it'll eventually come.
And so we sit on our patio as the world unravels
patiently awaiting our next worldly travels.