Alfred On An Island Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

Alfred on an Island

I got a phone call a rusty voice said he was Alfred,
But you are dead!
I know, I know the voice told like it meant nothing
I`m at the Saragossa Island you said to me about it is nice
Here but a bit damp and foggy, hence my rusty voice.
a lifeboat that drifted ashore had a ship to shore radio
that is how I`m able to talk to you now.
But how do you get along with rough sailors, and their
salty language, not too bad as you know I play the violin
and they sing shanties and do a jig, I miss the piano though
but it would only rust here and I can`t find a tuner.
I miss you, Alfred, of course, you do I thought how to be cultured
and in a way I`m your father, the real one abandoned you
The voice faded radio interference, but he said he missed too.
He had made my day he remembered me.