Last morning on Corfu

The warmest of early morning light shards onto the beach,
where endless cassette-ribbon seaweed ruffles.
The sea is a glass of water,
impossible,
a parody almost, of paradise.
Bougainvillea dances in a mad purple rush, foamy heads bowing in a soft, warm breeze.
Cypress trees watch from the mountain.
A cloud sharks across the sun,
making drama on the waves.
The choppy water is at once gunmetal,
we walk out on a jetty soft with years of saltwater,
the sky ready to reveal the sun again.
The thought of breakfast tugs at us,
the last morning on Corfu,
reality and news updates edging closer,
the price to pay for our escape.
I google house prices in Benitses,
vow to never forget every meal I have eaten here and loved,
and change my home screen to a holiday photo, to carry me through the winter.