Islands

My past is an ocean, some parts stormy,
some calm, but mostly it's all the same
texture, it all looks the same,
except for the memory islands

poking up through the waves,
they anchor my thinking.
Between islands I find empty space
in the ocean, there used to be a memory

here, a name, a face, a place
of shared events, it's eroded away forever.
As I get older island hopping
takes ever less time.