There Is a House

There is a house I dream of

Built on a sandbar in the middle of the sea.

Creaking driftwood walls and floorboards,

Salt smell in every crack.

Rustle of wind, raw and ragged,

Biting at white gauze curtains and tugging on sun-bleached hair. 

Water nibbling at the edges 

Of the half-moon biscuit of land on which stands this

Haven, with shingles falling off the roof

And dried splatters of raindrops on the windows.

By its side lies an old racing yacht,

Turned belly-up on dry sands

Her faded hull discolored, each plank onboard

Dreaming of the days she raced porpoises and battled storms. 

And came to rest

Here, where silence reigns supreme

Here, where the rest of the world will not taint 

And the sun above

And white sand below

And blue eternity

Across us, around us

As far as the eye can see

As far as the sky can reach

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