Island Grit
Ten years on an island
Can that really be?
Because living near sand
Has been my fantasy.
Except when sticky grit
Gets into my food.
And invades hidden cracks
That show up when I’m nude.
Well, enough about that,
Small inconvenience.
I’ll dine on a straw mat,
Which makes a lot of sense.
And during any hour
I’ll get much relief.
With a brand new shower
Not far from the reef.
Oh shucks, now that I’ve picked
Two of the items.
You might think that I’m licked
Yet, I’m not frightened.
Sure I don’t have a camp,
Or means for a fire.
But a nice genie lamp
Would fill those desires.
It sounds like I’m cheating
Though that’s not my aim.
Plus there’s no fear meeting
Someone to pass blame.
Ten years may sound dreadful
On an isle so teeny.
But not fully fretful
With the aid of a genie.
For What Would You Take contest, 10/27/13
Copyright © David Fisher | Year Posted 2013
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