It was a small island, A tiny mountain, hillock, really, Of rock and trees and rich dark loam Made of rotted leaves.
You could walk entirely around it In two dozen minutes, not more, On that tiny path That many feet, mostly bare, Had walked so many times before.
Sunlight dripping from our paddles We crossed the creek Imagining what evils lurked In waters deep Beneath us.
The cedar strip of our canoe Our only safety net. It was a small island.
The climb was short, And we would sit upon its peak. Drink in the day along with wine. Fruit and bread we eat.
And lay upon the grass; bask in the warmth. Watch sunset on the distant shore As each other we explore; a gentle fear. And eat once more.
Stars glow in the sky above. And in your eyes so clear and blue. I see the day replayed.
It was a small island, My love.