Somewhere,
drawn in his sea
with a sun that never
wounds.
Somewhere
my father’s house
that I never could see
...silence...
the seagull’s wings
caress houses’ roofs,
harbour’s embrace
caress ship’s seals.
Eyes’ breaths
and visual tastes
that respect their own roots
so dense...
The seagull’s wings
caress houses’ roofs,
harbour’s embrace
caress ship’s seals;
the church-steeple
like a lighthouse
for the sailers
who cannot see.