Grandpa and Grandma's Island

Humidity sticks to the skin like sap.

Warm rays awake my soul, leaving a soft

Imprint that begs me to stay, and a waft

Of ocean breeze with a distant whitecap.

Lush trees carrying fruits yellow, orange, green.

Their sweetness dripping as Grandpa chops them

Down. Down, down they fall as the island’s gem

Layers revealing orange gush unseen.

A rooster crow wakes me on the bright morn.

He tells me to explore my second home

That reminds me of boys and girls who roam

With their grandparent’s love since they were born.

When I think of Grandpa and Grandma’s,

I remember my island adventure.