There once was a man,
a man who loved islands,
a man who rejected
the company of all.
Each island was smaller
than the island before
till nothing remained
but a rock with no shore.
Lonely the island
without a quay,
an island in you,
an island in me.
Words for a pillow
and lines for a sea,
I’m just an old man
who loves islands.
[after a story by D.H. Lawrence]
I’m just an old man who loves this piece. Well written.
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Thanks oldmainer!
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The sense rockets home out of the simplicity. Great stuff.
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Cheers Laurie
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