White Island - Poem by Les Derbyshire
So many things have changed
Since first I came
To the white island
In my early, early summer.
Light-stepping over the sands,
Freely wandering the green hills
When love was new and we were young.
Hibiscus, bougainvillea, oleander,
Their colours almost too rich
For the appetites of eyes
Accustomed to far plainer fare;
And the white casas in the clear light
And the hard red earth
And the timeless men on the benches
In the plaza del pueblo.
But whose are these little ones
That play along the water's edge?
No longer mine to give 'just ten minutes more'
Before we tear ourselves away
And straggle home to tea.
This much I know:
The castles in the sand
Still crumble, disappear
As though they never were,
With the swirl of the turning tide.
© Les Derbyshire June 2010 - Ibiza
Comments about White Island by Les Derbyshire
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You