Listen to the torpid, turquoise waters,
langorously lapping at the sun scorched sands.
Imagine the tall, curving, coco-palm trees
casting welcome shadow over gay steel-bands
Parasols swirling, laughing ladies, clutch their
high, iced glasses in painted, long-nailed hands.
Gaze upon the lithe, lissome half naked bodies
in their bold, bright costumes, showing golden tans.
When the bright golden sun’s rays turn to crimson
driftwood is gathered and barbecues are manned.
As the fading light becomes tropical evening
everyone’s dreams and pleasures on demand.
Tuned dustbin lids polished, glowing in the fires
while stamping and dancing capture the rhythm of the land
