Night, Island- a sonnet

By
The quiet interrupter of sweet dreams.
You are Night, who lures me away from peace,
To mystery among the starry gleams.
Amaze me, oh! They do not ever cease.

The Island beats its relentless, fierce drum.
That shakes and sways the red Madrona trees,
Who stretch their spindly arms and strangle some,
The few who dare to carve "Morgan '03".

Lullaby of mine- waves crash and are born.
Erode the sands of time on which I walk.
My footprint will be gone by early morn,
Washed away by life's incessant clock

The watchful eternity of the stars.
Is an hour or minute truly ours?





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