If only I lived by the sea.

And when I woke up every morning, I could draw the curtains and say “hello” to the seals, and Herons, and whales.

People would travel from far and wide to see my art and celebrate my gifts.

And the young French woman with coal black hair who lived next door would make my breakfast.

She would bring it over to me on a tray covered in vintage towel from the Broadway Limited.

Along with a vase of fresh flowers she just fetched from her beautiful garden.

And there would be warm scones from England, gently melted butter from Ireland,  Seville Orange Marmalade from Scotland, and Breakfast Tea from Prince Edward Island.

Our favorite angel next door would smile and remind us with a divine soliloquy in the language of a dream that life is what you make it.

And the antique music maker would play a song that sounded like Heaven.