By Kayla Flowers
A ghostly howl spread across the rugged sea, where spirits lie wild and free,
An island, a land a mile north where people bring forth refuge and shelter,
The whispers of the night might give you a fright as the crisp air approaches,
Ships of the night guided by the light of a watchful eye,
A home for many who had plenty of illness and stillness,
Once loud and crowded this island became the highland of healing,
I am one of many ghosts who sit on the coast watching the sailor sail by,
An island of sleep only within reach of a city escape,
Now a ghost town that drowns as the sea rises and falls,
History has bestowed of the times before which created the core of today,
I tell a tale about the scale and impact this island had,
Stories to be told and one to hold of the island north of the port.
Kayla Flowers is a new writer and poet that lives in New Brunswick, Canada. She enjoys finding her next adventure. She loves spending time with family, her boyfriend, and friends making memories one moment at a time. She is grateful to be a part of “Write-now Saint John” writing group.
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