Our Little Island

Wed, 04/13/2016 - 15:43 -- ims

I choose you. 

You is all curly hair and rose lotion. 

You is all Southern so you don't mind the island heat. 

You been all work and no play for fifty years so tonight--

we play. 


I choose you.

We laugh as the sand between our toes makes us crinkle our noses.

We giggle like girls who've never had to work a day in their life.

Our smiles will be jungles--free and thick.

We'll take back the green that the concrete has suffocated from us. 

We'll draw cartoons in the sand. 

We'll watch as the salty water takes it all away.

We forget that we're trapped here so 

we dance.


We dance all hips and arms to beat back 

the waves of death. 


Grandma, they say you don't have long left, so

I will dance until the island grows so green that it 

covers the blue it's surrounded by.


I will always choose you. 

And if death still comes, I hope 

we'll meet again 

on our little island.


This poem is about: 
My family


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