The Sandwhich Islands

a breeze carries me back to tranquility, reminding me of the possibility
im not the only one who longs to return to such islands
my isolationism is showing
its bleeding out of me like the childish haunts
that follow me today
no use to imaginary scenes, except to fuel internal fires of returning
no use in hiding the plain sights
except to experience taste.
i never wanted to leave, but i was looking for my eraser.
the traveling ideas made  homes in the middle of the sea
but since you left, i was granted an invitation
a beautiful picture with a story to be told
love, loss, sharing and greed.
beauty prevailing through human hurdles.
effortlessly remaining
continually pushing back and reminding of the score.