Bad Poetry You probably never want to read

My Island Home

Some flock to the city

Busy every day

With shows and events

The centre of a world

Where business never sleeps

But that is not for me

The noise, the chaos

I prefer a simpler life

On my island home

Where the sun seems

To shine brighter

And the air tastes

Just that little bit sweeter

Where I can wander

Discover something new

Yet never get truly lost

From beaches of golden sand

To cliffs that plummet to the sea

Stroll down tree strewn walkways

Past boutique shops

A quiet drink with a friend

Or a local band starting out

No one place

Is far from another

So friends and family

Are always at hand

Last minute plans

So easy to make

Though the scars

Of history adorn its surface

These are but a reminder

Of how the island endures

And the importance it holds

To all who have set foot

On its hallowed soil

Yet when I seek a cheerier note

There is ever

A fete or celebration

That I can dip in to

For as long as I need to

All stationed

Upon rich green parks

Or between quaint buildings

Once done

I can switch off

Hear the birds calling

Sit on the rocks with a book

And lose myself for an hour or two

Knowing I am still near home

And should I itch to escape

A short boat ride or plane flight

May take me to exotic reaches

But no matter how far I go

I always long to return

To my island home