The Island

The Island

On the island the days passed slowly,
I was poor but could lie and pretend
So whatever It was she saw in me
I could never quite comprehend .

In the bars you heard "so long Mariann"
Those Greek girls loved that Leonard Cohen
And I'd found a muse and inspiration
For all my future self-indulgent poems

I endowed her with the trappings of poetic love
The dripping candles, the cheap french wine.
The similes and the recycled metaphors,
All my dramatic opening lines.

I revealed the sorry state of my finances,
Excused my long hair and shabby cloths.
Now she'd share my fiscal nightmares
But I'd compose unrivalled lovers poems.

All the sad girls were crazy about Leonard,
He had such charm and sounded sincere.
So they joined in and sang
So long Marianne,
But the oceans roar
Was all we could hear.

I described our love affair with many metaphors,
A winding road with potholes and sharp bends.
And intoxicated by my flowing eloquence,
I pledged fidelity until my mortal end.

I confided about my dreams and my ambitions,
And how they did'nt mean that I was bad.
And though I drove our beetle like a maniac,
My favourite songs were always slow and sad.

All the sad girls were crazy about Leonard,
He understood them and all of their fears.
So they joined in and sang
So long Marianne,
But the oceans roar
Was like thunder in our ears.

We jettisoned from our small hellenic universe,
Like an echo from some very distant prayer.
Love we found out was all so relative
That whole thing with E and MC squared.

Lately I've been thinking about those island days,
How we met so many thousand miles from here.
The ocean had roared out it's warning,
But we were young and just wouldn't hear.

All the sad girls still listen to Leonard
He brings them solace,
makes betrayal seem fair.
I've grown old, got less hair
I see danger everywhere,
And the oceans roar
Is more than I can bare.