Estella

There is a strange house on top of a hill

In Puerto San Pedro

With peculiar blue tint

Wind Whipped but cosy 

With a little white door

And it illuminates the coastline

When night falls

With the palm trees draped in decorative fairy lights 

And they say the little old woman 

Lost her mind long ago 

And her silhouette is often seen leaving footprints in the bay

Washed away as quickly as they are placed

She told me she waits by the cove

For a soul she lost to the waves 

To return and take her home