The air force came again today,

three big twin-prop flying boats,

A monstrous mosquito squadron

roaring low and slow

to settle on the sea.

 

I hear the clang of church bells

as the planes

advance their mission,

And we in the village

wish them Godspeed

to the burning mountain.

 

I dream of every summer past

and think of newer shores,

Where we can stroll

entranced for ever more.

 

Watched by wise,

whitewashed walls

that weep

for every voyage planned,

Sigh for centuries of separations

yet still serenely stand,

Signalling to sailors

till they reach

their promised lands.

 

Meanwhile

I write pictures

and paint words

of yellow sand

and skies of blue,

And wonder if

like the planes

taking water to land,

I could steal the sea

for you.