This was an island,
The maps showed nine in a line,
Before the storm hit.
So, this must be one,
Only two are inhabited,
The rest are untouched.
He needed some food,
He was feeling very weak,
From lugging the gold.
How could he explore,
How would he find his way back,
There was a reason.
He climbed up a tree,
To look out to see something,
He could reference,
A hill or a stream,
Something he could find again,
When he headed back.
He couldn’t see much,
But not far was a clearing,
That was east of him.
He set off to it,
Being careful to walk straight,
As far as he could.
When he got to it,
He found a stream running there,
And this pleased him much.
He then realised,,
That this was a small plateau.
And huge rocks rose up.
He now felt exposed,
And looked for somewhere to hide,
Back in the tree line.
