Islands

In the middle of drifting,

ever floating along the sea

where our lives our sailboats

and somebody else is the pilot

our minds look at the islands

of where we long to dwell

then hold on the image

make it our dream,

to find the peace it promises

along with a love

who can share that paradise.

 

Though shipwrecked or blown off course,

still that picture remains hung in the heart

even when pirates steal one’s sails.

 

It might take a lifetime to find

or merely stay a postcard in the head,

but when the eyes are closed

feet can walk that long exotic shore

while the body must dwell

among some concrete forest.

 

For those isles we create

keep us beachcombers of fantasies

no matter where our desires

are landlocked.

 

As long as we can touch

that sand in our thoughts

then footprints will walk

in serene and wishful steps

far from that realm,

which holds us hostage

by survival’s chains.