voices carry far across the sea
sounding close
industry and war
lovers falling in love
babies first cry
the last gasp before death
song of poets
the silence of forever.

Your heart a scenery, a warm breeze and the scent oft salty sea, seagull cries distant and not so distant, your hand tight and secure
on the railing of your ship. Yes, your ship. The wooden planks now clean and fixed, the mast upright, the wind blowing just about right.
Where ever this will go, you are, and this is for sure, the captain.

Why does the room smell flowery
like spilled wine and longing

I rub the damp mop along the oak
darkening its grain
Beautiful in ruin
again

He sat down
by the bar with a bottle of
whiskey.
And while the angels sang
he listened
to the preachings
of a crooked bartender
Whose days were filled with drunk forgotten nights,
and he knew
for first time
that he has
never felt more
close to God.