When a tiny, modest yacht
Slides on calm lake water
I see my reflection in shining
Lake and forget any bother.
I often did it, being young.
Today I am doing
It again though my cloudy days
Have come and we have turned gray.
We moored not once at islet
That looked untouched
With little sandy bank, a glade
And bosk of old pines
And I was charmed.
All this was new to me as always
I never dreamed of it, just felt it near.
Two whims of nature,
Born in neglected land
We were, but to this day unchanged
Just you remained.
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Comments about this poem (Islet by Alan Ingranazzio )
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