She loved that lovely island,
and her small place upon it.
Just a pretty little camper,
transformed into a loving home.

Hurricane straps held it
securely to the sandy ground,
and the ocean shore was
a mere stroll away.

Though tiny and old,
she loved this little abode.
Seagull cries carried every morn
in the salty aromatic breeze.

Waves lapped gently
on shores of golden sand,
or slapped angrily upon them
when a storm surged through.

Every morning with bare feet
upon the warmth of the shore,
they walked together,
a girl with her pup on hand.

This island home a dream of hers,
since a child and even before.
To wake with pelicans flying above,
and spy dolphins swimming by.

Winter storms and blowing gales,
never a cause for concern.
Yet, the twist of a pen and a contract torn,
neither of these could she deter.

As it is now and has always been,
greed wiped away compassion.
Her island home was bought by those
with money their only passion.

Now the little home is wiped away,
not by wind or gale or storm.
But by the mighty need for financial gain,
not hers at all, but theirs.