Otis Dovanne

On the Island of Vunricticy,

I saw light purple flamingoes 

drinking dazzling dark-blue 

water.

On the Island of Octivitia,

I heard a spider silently 

building a home, like a

construction worker.

On the Island of Detivitilicty,

I smelt a good but bad, 

sweet but smokey 

smell.

On the Island of June, 

I tasted the cotton 

candy clouds, as soft

as a bed of 

marshmallows.

On the Island of Isle,

I touched flames of a 

candle, the fur of a sheep 

And the spikes of a cactus.

On the Island of Vevolize,

I felt the joy of seeing an

old friend.

On the Island of Pesiti,

I saw face-lickers and milk-drinkers,

grass-eaters and worm-gobblers.

On the Island of Ratitianna,

I smelt burning and flame,

the fire I blame.

On the of Tina,

I saw windmills 

spinning like a 

carousel on a busy day.