Through the Window

To throw open 
A window on a Spanish square,
A greenwood pool,
A pale green lagoon,
A hilltop Tuscan town,
Or To sleep 
Beneath a palm,
An umbrella pine
And inhale the scent
Of grilling langoustine,
To hear the lullaby
Of the gentle surf,
I once was there
Now not to be.

Those were the days.

JL May 22. 10:18