"Lord, here comes the flood
We'll say goodbye to flesh and blood
If again the seas are silent
In any still alive
It'll be those who gave their island to survive.
Drink up, dreamers, you're running dry. "
I loved that island in a way. Once upon a time, he(nry) was my savior and lulled me to sleep. I woke to find my perfect island was killing me and so I decided to swim. I'd rather my bones were coral made, than still sitting there at the kitchen table, palm trees gently swaying (the overhead buzz of large bees on fly paper.) I'm still swimming.
Ciao
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1 comment:
Blogs are stalkers, with your help, is finished. Thank you. :-)
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