At the same time and
We got stranded on
An island for a while.
There was nothing to
Do much except talk
About poetry.
You wrote to me and
Read it to the birds.
I learned to write too
And you were happy to
Listen.
Good times, really.
The breeze was clean.
Night-sky was promising.
But how long can one
Be stranded?
The rescue teams
Showed up like age
Though we didn't
Want them to.
We were pulled back
To normalcy.
We were briefly alive
In the long stretches of
Our reveries- to become
Metaphors with wings.
But whatever grows
Wings should fly.
So there you go-
Go soar high.
I got an ocean waiting
For me, hopefully.
Lemme happily dive.