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Islands

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I hear them flock
To my wet sands;
In packs of many
Or disarrayed bands.
Some arrive waving wings to the wind’s roars,
Others come floating on the dancing oars.
I have heard from the tides, what it would be like;
To have life on my untouched terrain, taking a hike.
Every first light I hear a million singing their songs,
By every setting sun only a handful stay along.
The ones holding on are nothing but stray,
Finding their solace in my comforting hay.
Since the beginning of time islands like me have longed for love,
Sometimes to my shores, even empty boats are enough…