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The Island

By Ember

Maybe it’s the setting
Or the tingling sensation of bliss
As you step off the early ferry
And feel the sun’s first kiss

Observe the dew on the morning grass
And the webs that the spiders have spun
As the locals watch over their island
To the light of the rising sun

Where the rocks were invented by Tolkien
When the sun is at its peak
You’ll never really want to leave
This island of mystique

Where waves crash upon a lonely shore
And the sky is tinged with gold
There are secrets to be discovered
And countless tales to be told



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