Poetry

On that hidden island where we long to be,
nestled as it is in a pure warm azure sea,
where there are no sharks to flee away from,
just young dolphins leaping out for our fun,
afore blowing bubble rings to toss around
underneath the waves that bring a pleasing sound.

The moon is never hidden on the nights it comes to shine
and rainfall will only glisten if your loving hand's in mine.
Shall we trip along the soft shore of fine bleached coral sand,
catching eight inch butterflies that seem to understand,
we'll never try to harm them or take away their food,
so they will stay contentedly, while they are in the mood

We'll sing of our great good fortune,
baritone and conch shell for trombone,
then when the music runs dry, maybe we'll shout
"There's no one home - they all went out"
And other nonsense that will maybe echo
while we never miss any nagging phone falsetto

Such dream places we could perchance still find,
An idyll that lures some corner of my mind,
that seeks safe haven from this harsh run world
and holds hope one day to have fair sails unfurled,
to venture forth with loves energy by my side,
escaping the clutches of pesky memories that hide
all hope of peace and soft romantic scenes,
that may even yet exist outside of dreams.......

©Rhumour
August 8th 2010