The Lonely Maltese woman just sitting there,
Looking out to sea,
Across the harbor, back to the city,
The sea breeze gusts through her hair,
As she contemplates what is to be.
A stare so thick, fixed on the gentle tide
As another late returned fishing boat passes,
as if she could care,
The distant sound of St Julians behind her
It doesnt matter, where she is, she is free.
A laughing couple stroll along
Pausing to compare,
The times they each remember,
The times both she and he,
Thought that being lonely was unfair.
Steadfast,still and happy,
On that wooden bench as if it was comfy,
letting time pass,
Just breathing in the Mediterranean sea air.
Traffic calms, tabs in restaurants are paid,
bedtime in St Julians and envious are we,
At peace with herself, Happy to just sit there.