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Bora, Bora

On the isle of Bora Bora
Ancient are the crafts that lie there.
White beaches beckon those who linger
and those who taste the salty air.

I met a girl there on that island.
Later she became my wife.
Now aged and wrinkled yet still a beauty
my companion for all my life.

Now our grand sons, four moreover
dig sand fleas on that lovely shore.
They play with them a while, then release,
only to hunt, and catch a few more.

My hotel keeps me surviving.
It does more than keep me afloat.
I have time for fun and relaxation
aboard my golf Cart, car or boat.

Copyright © Charles Henderson