Why not plunge into the emerald waters
of the untold stories of this place
where nostalgia and longing
for a sweet tomorrow cross,
where the present is a strand
full of small white shells
and pebbles licked into shape
by hungry waves.
Not far away, on the beach, an old man
speaks to a girl with almond-shaped eyes
as neat as a madonna's canopy in a vineyard
where old gods lurch in waiting,
only dozing off for a while.
Soon, dawn will come.
Soon, the old gods will wake up
and reclaim their summerlands.