Who Is A Prisoner Now

My back yard has high walls and is like sun trap, I sit here and get a tan in winters... the walls, cracked, need a lick of paint. I can see a map of Europe, lakes, rivers and open plains where wolves roam and hunt elk, and man shot wolves. The map changes I now see the Caribbean and the Islands dotted about. When I was on a small tank ship years ago I had a chance to go ashore, visit and explore most of the Islands .... mainly I fear, my interest was to meet lovely girls, of what these Islands have many, and with a few of them swam in crystal clear waters of innocence. I also had the sense to see those pearls of Islands in early morning haze. So many years ago, yet I remember Teresa, in Curacao, and that is a great recall, as the Island itself is rather flat and has little to offer of beauty, its only claim to fame is a big oil refinery and the largest camp of prostitutes I have ever seen. Anyway the sun is setting and shadows erase my map, time to go in and lit the fire, but reminiscence of a time gone by lingers.