Islands

We are all stranded,

On our islands.  Alone.

And try as we might,

They never feel like home.

I was standing on my shore,

Looking out over the sea.

When I saw you on yours,

Gazing across, alone like me.

Though I never learned to swim,

Through waters of the kind,

That had kept us confined,

To the islands in our minds.

I dragged my fear to the surf,

And leaped headlong into the blue.

I gasped and thrashed and begged,

My way closer to you.

I barely made it out alive,

Wheezing my way out of the sea.

Your smile was like a warm towel,

Where you stood waiting for me.

We made love under palm trees,

On beds of leaf and loam.

We ate whatever fruits we could find,

For hours all we did was roam.

And even though it was a little island,

With not much there to find.

It felt like the whole world to me.

A prison to be happily confined.

But I woke one morning alone,

To find you standing back on the beach.

Face twisted with some emotion

As you stared at all that was out of reach.

I thought of taking your arm,

Drawing you down into the sands.

And showing you the magic held,

In the space between our hands.

But I was just a lonely fool.

Desperate for you to feel the same way,

About me.  Now I see you yearn to be,

On every passing boat, on every plane.

So I brushed off the sands of your shore.

And waded back into the sea.

I swam back to my island,

And knelt in the surf when I reached.

Everything I had hated,

Had waited for me so patiently,

This may not be the perfect place to be.

But this is my island, and it was made

Especially for me.