The bay of Cascais is empty today no ships at anchors
the sea azure and flickers of illusive gold coins sought
by those who seek an endless summer.
The town is oddly tame, from my vantage point I see
swimming pools, they look as delicate, clear tears of
a child who wanted to read clouds formation on a sky
blue as the sea. He often looks up, sees elephants,
castles and grazing sheep, today there is nothing but
ennui, it makes him sad. He wonders if sky and sea
once were one and was torn apart by a petulant god
who wanted to swim, sail and fish for his own delight.
Look, white clouds from the east, and afar he sees
a Russian schooner sail into the bay, it has red sails
and will cast anchor at sunset.
