"I must be on Molokai again. I must be on Molokai,"
I blinked as dark clouds raced across the early morning sky.
The traffic on the 405 sang a peaceful lullaby,
It sounded like the waves that lapped on the shore of Molokai.
The roofs of nearby buildings took me back to time gone by,
When we lived in similar surroundings on little Molokai.
The tiny beach, in just one walk, yielded him a hundred shells or more.
The neighbors, who came over to look, shook their heads in puzzled awe.
But the secret of the plentiful shells is very plain to see,
It tells of Love's provision that is here for you and me.
