a place I call home

I grew up on this tiny little island
not landlocked:
in touch with the water
on its filigree ends
we have our own God;
our soulful sustenance

I grew up on this tiny island
where the nights are dazzled
streets painted in psychedelic color
where dreams are not monochrome
or painted in the limestone shade
but they shine and sparkle

I grew up on this tiny island
where the laughter still rolls in the
swaying heads of palm trees
silhouetting the edges of land;
and the wind whispers
the sweetest of the symphony
when your toes are half dipped
in the warm wet sand

I grew up on this tiny island
where the eyes are dazzling with hopes
shimmering with dreams
which is carved in every bone
hidden in every sacred hymn

a place I call home

I grew up on this tiny island
this small piece of land,
I so boisterously call my own
a place where my dreams take birth,
a place where my desires freely roam
a place I dearly call home.