Wish Upon A Cay
I've always wished
to live on an island.
No problem with sacrificing
deceit and shallow dialogue
for the song of gull and sanity.
Bowls of lye and cold
for pans of warmth
the soothing sand.
Older now, I can see the dream
emerging from the waves.
My winged circle shrinks to a point of decay
love fades and hope shuffles away.
Careful what you wish for old man.
A wish may blossom into a John Doe grave.
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