Last time I dined with the sea she was calm and ******
Stretching the sun’s purple cloak on her as if she were an artist
Indolent and cold in her cheap, scruffy room
There where the wine flows medicinally
and 1+1=1
My love, in your hair I’ll weave my map and the sun I’ll leave on your bedside table
The sea I’ll pour in my bottle for when I get thirsty on the road..
Time to go now…My Ithaca is waiting!