I'm far too off to come back to the city
when my heart is already settled into the Northern lighthouse.
Instead of the daily horns and bustles of the pedestrians,
I prefer the angry winds here and the showering heaven,along with the crashing waves.
Rather than to walk down the isle street of pebbles,
My feet desired to trace the waves of the cliffs.
When they grow flowers in the park there,
I can't stop endearing the crusty grass,them frozen in December.
If I ever want to wail and scream,
the storm's always there to cover the screeching,which I'm grateful for.
I'm all so pliant yet strong down here.
No need to worry about amenity,
because there's so many things to see in the dark─
the cluster of stars up there,
the auroras at the end of the year,
the beams of the moonlight washing over my skin,
and the way my presence seems barely visible under its shadow.
Unfamiliar feeling if in the city;however,in here,it's perfectly soothing.
You won't have to hide nor pretend in here love.
Follow me,let us
exile exile far away to Fair Isle.
YOU ARE READING
OLD FILMS IN POETRIES
PoetryIt's a film in poetry─A little lively,a little sad,a little death,a little pleasure,a little desire and wishes,a little rest and a little nurturing.
