Green Island Poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
Green Island
I'm escaping again to Green Island.
Here the landscape never changes,
The rocks never grow moss,
The mystic river is never stolen.
They are as they were eons ago.
I am the odd man there,
Worn out by time,
The bald patch on the green,
A barrenness on the fertile soil.
Yet here I'm forgiven
For seeking her face,
Youthfully there on the wallpaper.
Friday, March 1, 2013
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4/19/2024 10:33:59 AM # 1.0.0.1119
