Mirage

As I walk across the arid sandy dunes

Hungry, thirsty and weary,

Steps away, Just a quarter furlong away.

I sight the island, with flowing streams and lush greens,

Eager to soak in the cold flow 

of the stream and recline in the tranquil green grass, 

I go a step ahead, but stall.

I fear the island is a mirage

If I step too close, it might vanish.

I stay back, thirsty, not to lose sight of it.