Marooned

Marooned

The shoreline, full of my broken and shattered dreams.
Tides retard as shards of quartz stick to my cold wet feet.
I watch with little hope as the sun sets one more time.
Vessels will not come this far, out of site they pass me by.

Stranded on this peninsula, waves crashed into foamy creams.
I am sitting here, waiting, where the sands and waters meet.
Wishing she had not sunk, I can still hear her ringing chime.
The empty thoughts of my rescue were a figment of a lie.

As the sun broke the horizon, it hit the socket of my eye.
My mouth parched and dry, no longer able to drop a dime.
Cold clammy skin festered and turned the color of a beet.
Finally the sun broke it down with ultra violet gleams.

I did not realize I had met my doom, my spirit began to fly.
What I had been feeling was spectacular, surreal and sublime.
With passage of years the island became home to a mighty fleet.
My bones dragged into murky depths, no one had heard my screams.

Written while listening to Pink Floyd, Marooned.