the old moon smiles at me
every night as I walk on the lonely beach
where hundreds of ships has washed ashore
and thousand feet have walked upon
cold wind blows from the waters crashing
on the white dull sand
bringing promise of freedom,
a sweet yet sickly feeling erupts in my stomach
I doubt whether my wishes will come true.
whenever the winds blows, I look at that way,
but never towards my house, or the town,
because all I want to see is a faraway adventure
just within reach, if I could grasp the star
that sits silently and still in the navy blue sky
beckoning me to follow and find
my own journey, as long as I run away
leaving nothing but the last traces of
my light footsteps,
wanting them to be washed away by
the coming tide.
just like how I hope all memories
of this place
of my entire existence here,
will be erased,
as I need room for new acquaintances, dangers, exploration,
feelings, discoveries, tastes, smells
sights, sounds to come and stay
when I leave to travel where
The Wind Points That Way.
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 3:08 AM UTC
the old moon smiles at me
every night as I walk on the lonely beach
where hundreds of ships has washed ashore
and thousand feet have walked upon
cold wind blows from the waters crashing
on the white dull sand
bringing promise of freedom,
a sweet yet sickly feeling erupts in my stomach
I doubt whether my wishes will come true.
whenever the winds blows, I look at that way,
but never towards my house, or the town,
because all I want to see is a faraway adventure
just within reach, if I could grasp the star
that sits silently and still in the navy blue sky
beckoning me to follow and find
my own journey, as long as I run away
leaving nothing but the last traces of
my light footsteps,
wanting them to be washed away by
the coming tide.
just like how I hope all memories
of this place
of my entire existence here,
will be erased,
as I need room for new acquaintances, dangers, exploration,
feelings, discoveries, tastes, smells
sights, sounds to come and stay
when I leave to travel where
The Wind Points That Way.
I always think of the title before penning the poem.
