A gentle breeze rolls through my black hair as an albatross sings in my head.

The bluffs of the petite bay hold back the autumn within its beached grasp

As the holy hidden wonders are heard in their repeating echo

And they remind me of their regal, inner beauty with rumours and a gasp.

I have laid there on the timid beach, a book, music in my ears holding back time,

And many a woman I wooed within my head as I listened to waves

That crashed into sand, swallowing grains whole silently in mime

Before entering with confidence and battering the carved out rocky caves.

Too long ago, the innocent that I was appreciated the petite bay

I have not seen the waves since from the peak of the bluff or stood in awe

At what I imagined to be the edge of the world.

I have forgotten the voices of people squealing in delight as they see crab or cray,

I have forgotten the announcement of the echo and I suddenly feel island poor

At not seeing that petite bay with its natural beauty unfurled.

Ian D. Hall