one day I return
to the island amongst the trees
hidden away behind the blue waves
buried in fine-grain sand
I don't know I'm looking for something
but somehow I know it's not there
my memories tell me alive
but my eyes tell me decaying
my memories tell me beautiful
but my eyes tell me dying
because a child's yellow dress
hangs from a tree
a gentle breeze tugging at the ripped fabric
and I don't need memories
to tell me that the child I once was
died long ago
with the boys who promised her infinity