I used to run around this island
and swim off the dock.
I used to rock climb
and pick blueberries.
I could paddle a canoe.
I was strong enough to ring the dinner bell
and wash the dishes when dinner was through.
I was awake longer than the sun.
Now I am a poet,
a pill popper.
I am a dog mom,
a wave watcher,
and a blanket hogger.
My island gives me views
no matter where I am.
I can step on a flat rock without leaving the porch,
and fresh blueberries are brought to me.
I drag my fingers while others paddle.
I hear the bell chime,
and I wait for the gathering of loved ones.
I see the sun setting as I drift in my own way.
3 thoughts on “My Island”
Really beautiful, Emma. You ARE a poet.
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I am so glad you are there where it is peaceful and beautiful. You can still enjoy the island just in another way. Hugs to you folks. Stay warm and know that I love you. Get stronger with the clear air.
I am SO impressed with your poetry. Beautiful! Have a restful time. Love and peace.