If I was to write a fiction,
there would be no characters,
nor a plot, nor lyrical expectations
just a blue scenery from my imagination
where cliffs are kissed by glacier snow
and saltwater cascade along their endless flow
where cosmic lights are framed with inlets called fjord
and lovers sing to the moon with melodious chords
where the ombre sky meets the liquid wine dark blue
and the sea fondles with the loving heavenly hue