the Island of Old

The red dirt roads, and the blooming flowers upon the sea shore,

Ignite in me the feeling of longing;

Longing for the place I've never been to, a place I've never experienced

In full.

Yet I feel I know it somehow,

Better than the place I call my home.

The eastern side, the maritime's, where the home lights flicker and glow.

How I should smile, to walk along that Isle, that Canadian staple of tradition.

To experience the serenity, the simplicity in life,

For this my heart would cherish such an addition.

Yes, the red dirt roads and the wildflowers,

And the waves crashing upon the shore,

Remind me that the life I know live,

With the troubles it gives, will soon experience

Something more.

I long for the day, the moment I'm told

When I am able to live, to walk, to tread,

Upon my dear Island of Old.

J.E Stanway

Written October 4th, 2017

© 2018 by J.E Stanway. All Rights Reserved.