Marine Life
One wave is like another,
All tides seem much the same.
They come, they go; they ebb, they flow,
All water, without name.
An island is an island,
Rock solid to the core.
Composed, of stone, it sits alone,
Upon an ocean floor.
But do not touch my water,
And do not climb my crag –
It may seem bleak, and not unique.
Not so. It wears my flag.
This water's territorial,
It isn't yours, it's mine.
And I will rage, and hold the stage,
If your boat breaks its brine.
The world is no-one's oyster
But always à la carte:
The red mist and the colonist
Are never far apart.
