Life on a Deserted Isle
I cannot recall the last time I saw a human face,
Or heard the music of laughter and talking,
I scan the skies about me, hoping for signs of life.
I spy smoke on a neighboring isle, maybe a cooking fire,
I wave my arms, but no one appears or responds,
Perhaps they cannot see me, or they fear me.
I grow short of much needed supplies, my little isle is bare.
I decide to risk life and limb, hopefully secure provisions.
I take off in my tiny craft, thread around hostile isles,
I reach my destination and start my hunt on this lonely rock.
I stalk my chosen quarry with great cunning and skill,
From out of the shadows I pounce on my unsuspecting prey.
I scurry back to my craft and stow away my rightful prize,
I take off, on the lookout for thieves and robbers,
I dodge other isles, leery of losing my trophy before I reach home.
I arrive at my lonely isle, proud of my unmatched prowess,
Wisely, I hide it where no one can ever discover it,
I stand guard against a greedy world intent on depriving me.
No one is taking my TP! No one, I say!
[Editor’s note: Mr. Suddeth spends entirely too much time drinking coffee and staring at blank walls]
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