C. T. Suddeth

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]