|picture credit: http://sassaputzin.deviantart.com/art/tide-and-time-172902874|
There’s a place where seagulls laugh,
nestled in the arms of a valley of pine trees
that whisper in the salty breeze, where on cloudy days
the tops of these trees are decked in a fluffy white coat
while a thin veil drapes over the valley.
At the back of this place, pine trees hug a little piece of lawn
that invites you to lie on it on warm summer nights.
And this I do under grinning stars, listening to the waves
tell tall tales of sunken ships, and sometimes I even hear a mermaid sing
of far-off homelands and long lost love.
The inside is warm. Polished wood and Persian carpets
surround a fireplace. On cold winter nights the fire roars
and the waft of burnt sugar drifts through the air
while Mick Jagger once again assures me
that ‘old habits die hard’.
But the attic is a special place... a wall of glass that
frames the ocean. A comfortable couch, a laptop, books and pictures,
and it’s here that I'm drawn to, where the mind and the words are free,
and thoughts dance like specks of light on the wall,
while all the time, the seagulls laugh at me...