There is a cruise ship docked out front;
six hundred passengers could disembark
destroying delights of a pristine Peniscola
egging others to vaunt vanities of vandalism.
It might be a warship outside the harbour walls
waiting, just waiting for a right time to disembark
guides that present missiles of hate and vandalism
always to annihilate prospects for petition and peace.
Perhaps in our troubled days we can dream a possibility
of togetherness wrapped within a cocooned community.
I am not a silent poet 