we walked close
by the white houses of rich people,
with wide windows watching us.
sad windows missing the deep seas,
just waiting their masters to return
in these modern mansions and castles.
we walked close,
passing on silent, lonely alley,
no soul,
no life from inside.
White houses in towns are not our type…
in our tell,
savage nature is gazing at us through
two walls of glass.
here, we are unarmed.
under an angular wooden roof,
which points to
new stars on skyes,
wet skins dive into water.
Imagine!
Wild animals shaking the fur,
chasing our slow movement.
here we are, stoned…
this vintage bath become an ocean,
we become rocks, shaped by its waves.
Do you think we’ll turn into sand one day,
when time will come?
luciabordeianu 