In Fact, I Am An Island

By John I. Blair

In fact, I am an island,
One no man can ever touch
But instead will only see,
Like Bali Hai, obscure,
Immured in mist.

For my part I only spy
In the encroaching fog
A ship or two sail by
That never turns about
And tacks to bay.

Most days my island’s calm;
But there are hours of storm,
Of gale or hurricane,
That scour my shore away;
And then comes restless night.

©2005 John I. Blair