On my own little island, there is little means of escape

I sit alone, on my nearly treeless home in the middle of a delta

My only neighbor, hardly acknowledges that I am even there

Ironically the only thing I want more than to leave, is him, my neighbor himself

 

Sometimes islands in this river delta form near mine

Lying within reach of mine, yet they always seem to worse than mine

Nonetheless, within a month, just as gradually as sediment built them up,

the river seems to carelessly erode them back into the river in which they were born from

 

Even from a distance, his existence brings me comfort

even if he’s not the last beautiful face I see before I sleep

His warm embrace needs not to caress me in order to feel his tenderness

Yet that homey, morning bed sentiment he emanates contrasts the coldness he regards me with

 

It’s not right I know

He’ll never get that same warmth from me that I get from him, I know deep down

yet I choose to ignore that maybe hope and time will prevail?

I’ll keep waving until he notices me from the corner of his eye

 

I should transfer my affections to another person, another island, another home

But must one move on, if there is nothing to move on to?

Shall I just build a bridge right into the unforgiving cold river current

and drown all alone, while icey blood flows through my veins

 

Far away there exists a better island,

with someone who will definitely regard me

But the seeds I planted from those few trees

will still take a couple more years until I have enough wood to built a sizeable boat

 

I still sit in my one room cottage, looking outside the window,

hoping maybe a new island will form

or someone will inhabit it and grow a beautiful forest

that will allow the island to resist the ever destroying power of the water

 

Anything could happen

Someone might come and settle a surrounding island

I may build a pontoon and transplant myself with someone else

someone who might want my affection in this barren world as much as I want his

 

The island I am on now

Could potentially flow away with the rest of the river

Either as my fingers type on this keyboard  

or perhaps later on until I can type no more

 

I may have to wait years until those trees grow

Until I can cut down the for imminent grove of oaks

and sail my way to a place with more life

However now I must wait.