Identities of a Stranded Soul

Who's island is this I do not know,

It's beautiful,

It must belong to someone so,

not a soul in sight it must be deserted though.

Surrounded by ocean and double crossed by strems,

lighting bonfires that's flames represent my dreams,

casting upon the sea, 

feeling that warm fuzzy feeling of being free.

Then I find myself,

walking alone along the wet and sandy beach,

driven nearly insane,

oh how I miss the sound of speech.

My name but a distant memory,

The life I've had I wonder if anyone would remember me,

you may take me to any deserted island but there's one thing I'm going to take with me,

and that's my identity.

As I fall fast beneath the ocean tide,

they come crashing to the surface,

my pride, identity and dignity collide,

who's island is this I think I know,

his name is Luis but he lives in the city though.

By: Luis Colon