By Roland E. Williams
I still at times long to hold and caress your beauty
Although time, and your many lovers, have diminished that
But now your lovers take you for granted
They have not realized that they have made you what you are
And that you have made them what they are
I still at times look upon you and say, Yes, you are mine
Your lovers say the words too, but they are without meaning
How can they live with themselves, when they have treated you so?
How can they not see what they have done to you?
How can they not tell what they are still doing to you?
And that this must soon, very soon, end?
I still at times cherish the moments we spent together
Your whispers in my ears I have not forgotten
Your sighs as I stood looking out over the seas
And enjoying your beauty, your soberness, your calm
Your cleanliness, your naturalness, your complacency,
Your serenity, your togetherness, your abundance, and all
Yes, all, that I cannot mention, for they are too numerous
But you know I know what they were, and what they can be again
If only we were to all love you as completely as we always did,
our sweet Sint Maarten