Our Island


Our Island

Our Island

You’re asleep as
I leave – you would know
my need to walk close to
the edge of the ocean –
barefooted – toes sucking up
pebbles – drinking saltwater
as pores open – leaving a soft
layer of white –

rose-colored shells –
soft purple – yellow –
gathered on this beach
where seagulls saw
my praise to the sun –
as my hands lifted up
snatching yesterday’s bread.

Rose, pink, yellow
and purple drew me there –
alone –
as many gather when
the sun reaches high
noon – now, a sun slips out
of the ocean – unseen by
those who sleep.

Rest, for you are not
searching for the colors
between my toes.
Lay there, while my eyes
drink colors from a
rising sun.

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Angie's Diary