Morning
comes; the sun rises and opens a new age
Shadows
of palm and banana trees stands on the sandy stage
Blue
and white clouds encasing the horizon like a cage
There’s
a fellow sitting over there dressed in beige
In
his hand, a pencil and paper to write his thoughts
In
his mind, great ideas and sorrowful words he sought
Red
sunlight lands on his face, glaring his view
Out
in the streets, savory scent rise, perhaps those of morning stew
In
the wind, pungent smell of ocean breeze come and go
Silently,
the strong, glaring sun stows
Giving
the young fellow a chance to look ahead of time
Melody
of his blood streams starts to sing
His
whamming pulse stuck on him like a golden ring
Sweet
scent of hibiscus fills the rocks and the beaches
Yellow,
fluttering butterflies swarm them like leeches
Then,
a striking smell of mocha coffee comes to the nose
Spraying
thoughts of breakfast like a fire hose
Another
day is just beginning under the sun
And
this factor is on the run again, so-called fun
All
his feelings reflect the calm, Morning Sea
With
swift dolphins jumping, letting themselves be
A
calm, green palm leaf reaching his shoulder tenderly
The
water feels smooth, flowing like a smoothie down the throat
Another
greeting saluted highly by a local fishing boat
Suddenly,
blatant sound of a pencil pierces his mind
All
there that is suddenly left behind
Is
a brown journal and a sharp fountain pen on a red table
Darkness
scatters around the cell like scattered marbles
All
he see now is a row of steel bars and a locked door
And
more darkness hurls around the dingy floor
Sound
of the owl calls it a day for now
Everything
changed in a snap, he does not know how
Island
Chateau, a paradise or virtual hell.