Monsters On The Island

Monsters On The Island

Coconuts and those red fruits we love.
Sun. Sand in the toes, waves washing
golden blue as birds we can pet sing.

Night fires. Watching stories swirl up
as we speak them -- flame blurring
you to me, me to you -- into existence.

Rain cannot spoil this, nor storm bring
a longing for rescue. Four winds tear
us limb from limb, our spirits joined, go.

But there is a fierce terror of the mind.
Dream of what once was. Healed only by
your hand in my hair, and the whisper

Those are memories. Only memories.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --