Isla Mujeres

Isla Mujeres,

it will always be ours. 

the gatorade blue water, 

clear as crystal, it will 

always be ours. 

the yellow ferry boat floating between 

land and island, 

music drifting from the man's guitar, 

it is ours too.

the sand white, bright, like clean teeth, 

bustling streets, foot travelers, 

the tiny motorbikes, the helmets, 

the fuchsia pink flowers 

fanning their petaled skirts just for us, 

ours. 

the room on the top floor, 

lots of windows with no glass, 

breeze and sun enter and exit at 

their leisure, 

the shade of lime and whitestone shielding us, 

the newlyweds, 

as we fall into each other each night, 

each day, 

any time we close the door really, 

those handful of sacred firsts as 

husband and wife, 

enveloped in our own garden of 

eden, 

ours, and ours only. 

Isla Mujeres,  with its pinky sized glass cokes, 

pocket of sun sized cervesas,

el pok huk with the sign made of red bean sea shells, 

the silky black bean soup,

the nachos piled high, 

they will always be ours. 

we hold these precious memories 

close to our hearts, 

warming us until we might find ourselves

back there, 

when we can, 

if we can. 

still wed. still new. 

beautiful isla mujeres, 

will always be ours.  

 

*we are slated to return after visiting 3 times in the history of our marriage, 

july 2026, in celebration of our 19th wedding anniversary!