Take me from this British land
Of phony politics and prescribed freedom.
Take me from these expensive tastes
For cheap wine and cigarettes;
Artificial food for a waning appetite.

I do not want to grow old here,
And lament potholes and cappuccino froth.
Take me to that warmer climate,
A slower pace; where love is a friend,
And death is not a failure of ambition.

Take me from these long winters
With flash-floods of tears, once politeness
Has ended and boredom kicks in. Let me read,
Finally read, and witness the sound:
I’ll know when the forest has fallen,
For I’ll be living within the leaves.

Take me from the towering masses
Of concrete, billboards and sirens.
The high-streets stir and distract attention,
Calling; Labour, Tory, God, and Money!
It’s a eureka moment – a flash in the pan.

Take me from this British land
Of hard-earned cash for harder times.
Let me find my place upon mother’s crust,
Where oceans divide the new from my old.

To where profanity fails to scale this feeling;
This art of living, this place for healing.