Ella

The light swinging at Faro, green evening stripes the beach, smell of sardines from boats, at the raging kitchen, I smell rain and sea, warm against the beam ends, while you eat alone , I bring you tea, filled with words of stone, don't try to insist, another happier reach, I don't fit in , she wants to dance and sing, but her opacity, splits me like lightning, cuts me to the bone, above my frayed dungarees, birds from Africa fly home, will she ever see ?