The Island

The sun is sitting tall,
like a child holding a magnifying glass
in the reflection of the deep ocean far beneath.
The sand surrounding me
is as coarse and rough as the ocean before me.
The endless rolling waves,
reach with their hands
to drag me down to the cool depths
and then recede slowly.
The cerulean ocean, soft, as it is harsh.
Every second seems an hour,
and every hour,
in turn, a day.
The longer I sit,
the more the cool breeze taunts me,
sending heated chills down my spine.
Yet I find that as time goes on
I sit and listen to the sound of the rolling ocean waves
as they grow increasingly distant,
becoming nothing more than a slight hum
in the corner of my mind.
I close my fading eyes,
as the sand beneath me dissipates to become
something like a soft resting place
where I find my last thoughts,
will be of home.

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