The view from the sliding glass door,

with its frozen, unforgiving glare,

illuminating lonely little novelty shops.

The world under a glimmering sheen.


No longer tangible,

wood, brick, or animal.

The sand fused with the waters edge

where no one dares to walk across.


No bare feet now, sneaking under plank and nail,

shaky, almost hovering,

with the reckless, dirty pigeons,

feathers littering the dampness.