On a lonely night, by a glass of bourbon

The tired sea stretches on and on,
so lost and forlorn – without a song or a rhyme,
and no conception of geography or time.
Round the world it goes on for ages to return
to this still window of mine.
And by this window, I have been sitting for so long,
that now this still window too begins to whine.

1:58 AM
8th October, 2010