Watery eyes.
Dipping a sip into last year's wines.
On a terrace.
Moving less than windless land's grass,
I became a statue. Dismantled by salty water,
misshapen brittle matter.
It's foolhardy deceiving myself I'm not caged by stone.
Tiny tides of breath,
rocks heavier than any I have known.
Endure the weights,
The wine whispers,
Content stillness?
Anxiety lingers.
