Someone

Someone, somewhere, in some
Half-lit corridor of the mind,
Someone near,
Someone dear,
Gently stirs my halycon world;
I shut my ears with conch shells,
Alive comes the echoing warbles
Of unseen, distant seas;
The in rolling waves of emotion,
Wash my shores and retreat,
Defining arrival and departure;
I am not the sea,
I am not a shore, may be I am
The island of Robinson Crusoe,
Nay, of Gulliver or perhaps, someone,
Who failed to ingress
The doors of a novel;
I can see the tide rising
Higher than my island,
Obliteration threatens me,
But assures a watery grave
In the tumultuous marine world,
Where beloveds like mermaids wait
To receive and entwine
In eternal peace!
I cast aside the conch shells,
There’s an aspish hiss,
A serpentine smoke glides
Into the air as the ears
Are deafened by the scream
And roar of a rattling train,
Piercing the sable night;
Everything quivers: floor,
Bed, table and vase
Which shakes off the once
Burnished petals;
I grope for the torch
To see the wall clock,
Asking myself:
Was this the last train,
Have I lost three-fourth
Of the night awake?