Strangers on separate islands, safe, isolated.
Our eyes meet, dart away
Like tiny, terrified fish on a shallow shore.
And then we keep on walking.
Why do we never stop or say, "Hello?"
What do we have to lose, alone on our
You might say, "I like you,"
I might say, "Me too."
A weather-torn ship might pass between us
Piled hight with age-crusted hidden treasures,
Or soggy messages in messy handwriting in
Old bottles sealed with red candlewax.
You would laugh aloud as you read them,
Sometimes you'd cry, or maybe you
wouldn't know what to say at all,
So you would say
I might hoist a tattered flag one day,
a violent-red passion color and
it would make you smile
because you'd know it was for you.
One day you would be distant on your island,
and I on mine.
We stare across the void of rippling water.
You shout something at me and I know it's
But the wind tears it from your lips jealously.
You can't stand to stand so far away
So you throw yourself in the water,
My fearful cry stained with sand
And salty tears.
Ocean-soaked you crawl onto my shore,
My shore so empty and grey
Now filled with marvelous flags of woven color
And messages too loud for old paper.
The nights are filled with blazing firelight,
Darkness like laughter and warm embraces.
We break eye contact.
The briefest of moments passes, an eternity,
Unwound, undone, never even begun.
You and I,
We walk away.
You do not know me
And never bother to ask.