I head back
to my home
where I am
I belong
then bring tools
supplies to
the isle for
a long road
to recover
seasons pass
life returns
green springs new
saplings sprout
the skies clear
the stop leaves
weathered whole
at long last
value grasped
YOU ARE READING
The Isle
Poetrywhat is a man to do when his secret haven is ravaged by a true force of nature?. Based on the tribe form of poetry
