My fair Alisha

I can taste her in my dreams
and awake with the scent
and feel of her
redolent
indolent
impassioned
impressed
upon my mind
my flesh
my soul.
So real
that I look around
and reach for her.
To kiss and cuddle her
awake
in the dawn.
Instead of Alisha,
with sleep tousled hair,
I see the deck
of the Mah Jong
above my face
and find myself here
in this narrow berth
at sea again.
Five-thousand miles
from my baby
and four more days to go
before I can fly away
from this beautiful tropical prison,
back to my California life
and my California girl.
I love the islands;
but,
without my love
all lesser joys are empty
worthless to me
and my heart is dust
waiting for that brief time
when I can call
and hear her voice again
for a while.
And then she is gone
and this Caribbean dream
turns to ash once more
upon my tongue and
I am desolate.