Island
On this island a cold wind is blowing
as trees wave closer together in the
distant night fall. The sun declines
slowly as darkness surrounds you
and murmurs that you are alone.
Every move you make only floods
the memories that confine your steps.
There is no open corridor to the past
only a sinking ship, an island weeping
for the future. Night falls only the
sound of waves crushing and a
sea breeze of cold night air.
Copyright © Julie Heckman | Year Posted 2014
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