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
The Daily Post: Favorite Place
Lovely prose with a very creative photo. Nicely done.
Thanks