“A room with a view, of an ocean blue, what else can one ask in life?” Gun Roswell

Ocean views

The blues calling from the ocean deep, the soft waves washing a shore, the sandy beach nothing of a bore, with the skies open wide, the sun but a big smile, the warm fresh air, leaving no one in despair, beckoning the weary traveller to take a chance, as long as the days will last, to make their way to the side, where the water meets the sky, the feeling a thought, taking off the very ground and flying ever so high, like some sort of a fancy kind of kite. 

Only this is the dream, even if it all so real seems, eyes wide, looking at what was left behind, on the sandy beach, the body still stands, waiting for the fancy flight to somewhere land, but it seems, that the freedom of it all, lasted way too long, and now, it will never come back again, the idea, the thought, the dream, all gone, lost in the gentle winds over the ocean, the empty vessel remaining on the shores, watching the ocean soar, while the fancy flight of the thought up there in the blue skies will roar.