Some woman on a distant Island
looks at my profile. She looks at me.
Does she think I’m too boring or bland?
Or that she’s too far across the sea?

Does she know that I’ve done,
(back in my younger days,)
on that tiny ferry I have come,
and have captured her island in my gaze?

That I’ve longed for an island life idyllic,
where I could write to my finger’s content,
and move beyond plastic and acrylic
to a lifestyle like where my youth’s days were spent?

Does she know how her Island calls to me?
Does she know that’s where I’d love to be?