Wednesday, August 3, 2011


Somewhere over the Everglades their little plane went down,
Authorities searched for many days but no one was ever found.

On a plane from Cuba, they were making one last run,
To drop some boxes filled with goods that weighted a metric ton.

Those boxes that they’d take aboard were filled with many things,
From glasses, plates, and silverwear right down to napkin rings.

They’d find the beaches of Key West and open up the hatch,
They’d push those boxes out the door to start the great dispatch.

The couples on this sandy beach would watch with great dismay,
Wondering why they'd help like this, to survive another day.

They’d run right over to a box and open with great vigor,
And use whatever they might have, including a posthole digger.

People along this sandy shore, really counted on that plane,
To bring them their survival goods, so not to go insane.

So when that plane stopped showing up, they knew just what to do,
They learned to fish and dig for clams, deep in the water blue.

Surviving on the glorious catch they brought in everyday,
The oyster stew their favorite, all others just okay.

                                                                                          by Barbara Morey ~

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