My Island

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 napper,

a baker,

a pill popper.

I am a dog mom,

a blogger,

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.