Withdrawn

One summer, 

I perched alongside a canary. 

Standing straight in regimental order, 

In ceremonial awe, 

Until  

The glimmer of the sea 

Thrust open my eyes 

And led me delve to its wavy folds

By then, the sun 

Had swollen the Spanish island waters, 

With a deep shade of 

Blue. 

I did not know why I stood there for one, 

Glued, without intention to move. 

On the heightened promenade pedestal, 

Watching the ebb and flow 

Of this boundless vastitude 

Momentary apparition of fins.

All of that, that of which, 

Has no word to describe its 

Significance to me. 

When I found myself in the embrace  

Of the glittering sea ablaze, 

I dropped my baggage and map. 

I first sought 

To make the most of 

Fuerteventura – a name that had taken 

Me time to muster and articulate; 

A place that had taken 

Me time to see it for what it is – 

An island. 

Bella Isla, bella, bella……  

Panting injunctions replaced my breath. 

Subdued, 

I found myself not on an island, 

But to have become one.