Friday, August 28, 2009


We’re about to leave the Island.

The summer’s gone too fast.

We’re returning to the city

To face the winter’s blast.

We’ll miss our many island friends,

Our cottage, cosy wee,

Mountains in the distance,

Deep forests and the sea.

Why don’t we stay in Lotus Land?

We love it more each year.

Each time we leave the thought occurs,

We shan’t return, I fear.

From the softness of the Georgia Gulf

To the Prairie's bitter clime,

We drive a thousand miles

Across terrain sublime.

Is this to be our destiny,

Every spring and fall?

To rush between the harsh and mild

When the island has it all?

I hope we soon will see the light.

We’re getting old, you see.

We may get stuck in Prairie muck

And ne’er again break free!

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