By Evette Davis
it’s been a long time since Your face was red,
Your cheeks stained with cranberry hues of blush.
We’d conjugate on top of silver sleds,
on Your island covered in snowy slush.
We both know our downfall was never planned.
but Calypso, this time I set Us free.
Our immortality’s not hand in hand.
how the story goes, We weren’t meant to be.
oh how You’d hold me tight in Your frail arms
remembering I crashed here by mistake.
Calypso, yes, Your island is a charm.
but youthful beauty only makes me ache.
Calypso. I’m meant to rise, but on my own.
that’s why Your island’s never been my home.