The Island

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The island spreads her arms to the world
Westbound wind caresses her woods
Runs fingers through her grass blades
Little mushrooms sprout everyday from her belly
To be food for rabbits

The ocean brings hope and despair
Depending on the lunar moods
Once in a while the stars lit up the sky
Defeating the fog
Adorning the island as a princess bride

The island croons in the westbound wind
Hoping against hope
That her songs will reach human ears
On the shores of terra firma
Or to the unlikely ship of kilted warriors
Sailing across the grey rainbow

Seasons fold and unfold
Orchids bloom and die
No signs of gulls
No rabbits
No fishes
No men or mermen

The island withers in the embrace of sorrow
Dying a lonely death, each moment of eternity
Maybe one day the ocean will rise to her salvage
By taking her into its cerulean abyss

The island awaits that fateful day

Image sourced from


3 thoughts on “The Island

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