Island Spared
I sense the pride
Of a mother,
Deep in her muse
Nursing her baby;
Then, she looks up,
Catches me spying
Equally bemused, and
Smiles to say: “Look,
Look at my world, and
All the joy therein”;
What seemed then
A toy snared,
I now pass her by,
Her pride shared,
Her honour spared
From my lust.

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