Further down the river
is a quiet island,
my hideout in days of yore
when love as a narcotic
seeped in to my blood streams
coursing wildly to the beat
of my thumping heart.
Tides from the estuary
never touch its shores
waters are wave-less there,
nature is at her fecund best.

We rowed and rowed
but found nothing there,
turbulently lashing waves
told us a story different
from the one  for long
in my mind encapsulated.
I stood for a moment, accepting defeat
and felt  the maelstrom of time
swirling around, emphasizing on
the irrevocability of  the things past.

From where does this pain come?

Once close to my heart,
the island in my mind's stream,
though I left behind and
swam forward not to look back,
is still there, though not here in space.