Anyone who has read several of my LOST-related posts from the past three months will probably have the idea I'm a bit hung up on Charlie's death. It's been mentioned in half a dozen poems before this one, and I keep telling myself that's it, but then I wind up deciding there's still more to say...
This reflection, to the tune of Michael Card's The Greening of Belfast, finds Charlie alone, lost in thought as he strums his guitar a short time before he leaves with Desmond in Greatest Hits.
Leaving This Island
With the soft, soft sand
Shifting under my feet,
I retreat to the solace of song.
I must strive to shield
Little Aaron and Claire
From the terror that's loomed for so long.
Claire will be leaving this island.
I think I'm prepared now although it's unfair.
My love is leaving this island,
But when rescue comes, I wish I could be there.
When rescue comes, I wish I could be there.
It gives me chills
Looking on her face,
Aware that my life's almost done,
For my will to live
Tortures me as I stare
At those eyes that shine bright as the sun.
But I'll dry my tears
And I'll say my prayers
As I leave her behind on the shore,
And I'll rest in peace
Knowing I have released
The one I love most from this war.
Claire will be leaving this island.
I think I'm prepared now although it's unfair.
My love is leaving this island,
But when rescue comes, I wish I could be there.
When rescue comes, I wish I could be there,
But Claire will be leaving this island.
Greening of Belfast
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