Outside was the town
asphalt fumes crawling in the worker's lungs
kids running through the whirlwind of dust
I can still hear the ringing sound
of the hammer,
hitting the nails
on the skeleton wood walls

'Welcome to the teardrop shape island.'
if you go straight, you'll reach Cloud 9
an abode for surfers, watch the waves, and you'll see the sign
a paint of camaraderie on a thumping board,
they tried to climb

crystal waters scintillating in my eyes
a splash of diamond
glistening on my feet,
embracing the euphoria that
will hopefully repeat

The next block is a bumpy road
where the bamboo cottage lies
beside a rice paddy where the sound
of leaves, sings a soul to sleep
a hammock that sweeps a brooded dream
and sweet cotton pillow that sinks you back to a place

With no mayhem.