There Is An Island I Know

There is an island I know

I shouldn’t even mention—

it’s a fairy tale, you see

where no one wears shoes

and no one needs to—

the houses are hobbit-like

with grass on the roofs

and the food is fresh from a nearby farm

every morning the tea sits steeping

on long wooden counters

with toast and jams from local berries—

the crickets always crick here

and the birds call, the kind

that make you stop and say,

“Now that is a beautiful song”—

the sun is hot

without a cloud in the sky

and the beach runs out for a mile

in silky white sand

so that when the tide flows back in the afternoon

it heats up, warm as a bath,

when it rains

you build puzzles, and paint, and read

and light fires that crackle

and smell like cedar saunas

and each night, rain or shine,

you drink wine

and listen to records

while you play games—

and sometimes

you’ll lay in long grass

and chase the stars around the sky

heads close together with the ones you love—

each day is the same

you do what brings you peace—

and the wildest part of it all

is the island is real

my toes are in its sand.

Other Poems Read Today:

xx Atticus

@atticuspoetry 

www.atticuspoetry.com