The Island

BY CAROLE NICHOLS

Should you see her in her slumberous pose,
Freed from all her cares and woes;
Tis like viewing a child resting there,
A halo of light circling her hair.

The sound of her breathing, soft and low,
An occasional sigh, she's dreaming, you know.
The one place she can go to find peace,
A place where her love can find release.

She's found a little island out of the way,
Where nightingales sing and kittens play;
The days are warm and fresh as spring,
She has no wants, here there's everything.

The swaying palms and crystal falls,
Soothe away worries as the sunset calls.
The moon rises full and starlight gleams,
And there comes one to fulfill her dreams.

From out of the forest, he rides his steed,
Bronzed and oiled, from a long, lost breed.
Between his white teeth, he carries a rose,
And as he nears, she smiles for she knows.

He has come to her, so often, this way,
He'll swoop her up and carry her away.
In his strong arms, she's safe from all harm;
He'll hold her close and keep her warm.

His kisses are fierce, but they taste so sweet;
His body is hot, but it's a gentle heat.
He makes her feel as if she's a queen,
As he loves her till dawn in the grass so green.

His voice is soothing as he whispers her name;
And speaks those words only lovers can claim.
As the moonlight bathes them, she will sigh,
For even in dreams she wonders why,

This place only exists in slumber's glory,
Would be wonderful if reality offered this story.
Would be nice to love fully, without fear,
But until that day comes, her island is here.