As the air wafts in a seagull’s mind
it is a gentle breeze flowing past a crystal
clear ocean
that shimmers in the soft pitch black air
overlooking
big and grand and fine restaurants
with lovely food and nice wine and
laughing people having a blast lit proms and most of all a
city
Hi Leo, the last couple of lines don’t really make sense. Send me a couple of new lines to give the poem a better ending.