An Island Life Observed Poem by PAUL COLVIN

Another lazy day ahead as gentle folks lay in their bed,
The morning brings a warm sun but no excited children run.
They’re still in bed, will be awhile, on this, Italia’s greenest isle.
Dogs don’t walk, they only lay, they just act dead but never play,
You’ll never see one wag its tail, this lovely isle, it’s their jail.
And people here don’t talk so loud, some, more sinister than proud.
They’re out at dawn and on the street and head down to the place they’ll meet
Their friends sit ‘round the flower beds, darkest thoughts within their heads.
They’ll never look into friends’ eyes, whilst greeting them, watch passers by
Are they afraid to hold a stare or is it that, they just don’t care?
Are they haunted by their past? as I look round I see a cast
Of extras from a scary show, like Thriller, trudging, sluggish, slow.
I noticed many look the same, high foreheads, small with stocky frames?
Few children playing at first light and now they all come out at night,
Hundreds seem to roam about but still so silent, never shout.
A mum drops off her daughter, no goodbyes said with laughter,
A young girl in her early teens, looking good and very keen
A stern face, a pretty girl, this youngster’s dressed to kill.
Her boyfriend waits across the road another extra from that show
Once again that zombie walk, he greets her with no smile or talk
No kiss at all, she grabs his hand but still they seem on distant lands?
The more I think the worse it gets, even down to people’s pets,
A strange phenomenon is here but saying what, is not crystal clear.
Italians seem to talk non-stop but here words are only heard in shops
No gossipers with idle chat, just deadened words in a life so flat.
It’s like The Wickerman is here and filling local hearts with fear
The church is central to their lives but are they here as God forgives?
Tourists pour off every boat, the locals stare and seem to gloat
Everything’s a drawn out plan as they await their next command.
This island is so beautiful but the locals aren’t all that cool
There’s something here that’s pretty rife but maybe, that’s just island life.