I often forget the things I’ve asked for 
Mysteriously they’ll show up at my door
And say here am I you may believe it
Well I blink and I stutter as I wonder what to do
The situation blinks right back and says it’s up to you

Well I always have wanted an island
A very fine place with sunlight and breeze
And plenty of space and lots of quiet
But now there’s too much quiet here
I cannot hear my mind 
And the light that is my soul seems to blind me

But no, no, no I’m not an island
I breathe your voice your smell your touch 
And beckon close to you
I’ll walk back to the world of many people
And I will wear my colors plainly and I promise not to hide
The errors that I’m bound to make were tough enough to try

And if you’ve had the hands of a Midas
You know it might take many lives to find 
What you should and should not touch
Gold would be like sand through your fingers
As plentiful as water ‘round that island should you loose
Forever would you be my love that I would ever choose

© Dana Robinson, Threshold Music, West Charleston, VT - July 1994