And yet

Naked bulges the sea, ugly and old,
she waits
for nothing,
least of all for you
and for whatever on seeing her you would like
to pick as honey-dew from the air.
She does not care one bit
wether in rapt contemplation
you find yourself breaking into verse,
or dumbstruck
yearn for the next sunrise

: The old sea and the man :

And yet there you sit,
stare at the lapping wave,
listen to the fading heave,
and wait for a morning
that you never before
even dared to dream of