I dream of Brazil,
I dream of listening to bosa nova 
music in a café whilst eating my breakfast.
I lift up a cup of warm coffee,
a taste unfamiliar to me more than 
a few months ago but one that 
now greets my lips like an old friend.
The novel I’m reading is 
sat on the table,
much like I’m sat next to it,
resting yet again until
I breathe life into it
or more so,
until it breathes life into me.
My pulse tempers as I
flick through the pages,
my mind anywhere but here,
any time but now.
I place the book down,
pausing to stare at the 
frolicking waves to my side.
Out there,
	there is nothing for miles,
	no land for mankind.
	Good, 
keep it that way.
Leave the fish to swim,
	whilst I finish this cup of coffee.