Her leg hangs languidly
Over the side of the lounger
Above long- forgotten drinks
Their ice melted in the heat
On the light-bright, polished deck
Amid a tangle of abandoned magazines
Their colour-bleached, crumpled pages
Lost beneath the relentless, blazing sun
The boat wallows gently
Shallowed near the shore
Swinging slowly round
Shifting position, drifting with the tide
In the heat-baked afternoon
Where nothing stirs
And there is not a breath of air
Nor any breeze to cool the burning day
Suddenly alert, the girl looks intently
Towards the shimmering island
Senses its spice-infused aroma
Believes she hears it calling
Feels the bow pull against the chain
Dragging the light anchor
Through the soft white sand
Beneath the gin-clear water
Where acid-blue fish dart
Between shafts of flickering sunlight
She aches to step ashore
To feel the firm-ness of the Earth
Beneath her naked feet
A home to hold on to
A fixed point within her orbit
Un-shifting, unchanging
A steady, stable foundation
Where she could remain
Upon which she might build a life
And feel that she had finally arrived
At some long hoped-for destination
Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2012
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