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