The Window, The Sea


the window is the window
the glass, the same

the wall, the same

the same old house


looks out on the sea,
never the same,

not for a moment

neither the air nor the water.


when I close my eyes
to look out the window

the sea takes everything:

my lungs, my hair, my hands on the table


the sea is not the same and it floats me
through the same window

the cries of sea-birds far below

in the fog


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