It was a long and lonely walk for me this morning, no sea monster and limpets,me my only company, the beautiful French ladies that sat outside my summer window have returned to their soft misty walls across the ocean, although, I still see their wake, golden hair, a trail like ice, phosphorescence, that walk was like a week in Paris and now I'm thinking about going back and a gentle wind, spice, hot sand and the ripple of the wake from the French ladies scent laden Bateau, to my left, drums and the smell of hidden land, to my right and with eyes shut tight I could navigate, I hope I will see you at the low tide, I hope you bring your violin and I'll bring the barmaid with beer and pickled Herring.