The Laughing Seagulls

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...