Ein (Winter-)Märchen
- Lady Aislinn
- vor 3 Tagen
- 1 Min. Lesezeit
Aktualisiert: vor 55 Minuten
"DeeVid-Anfänge"
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The Exile’s Clock
A stranger in this modern maze I walk,
The wrong century attends my every talk.
These towering spires of glass and steel and light,
Are alien structures in the endless night.
My heart is elsewhere, where the soft rain falls,
On emerald hills and ancient, mossy walls.
I yearn for Shannon’s mist, for Galway Bay,
For the quiet comfort of an Irish day.
Here, time races fast, a relentless stream,
There, life flows gently, like a waking dream.
I miss the peat smoke and the fiddle's tune,
Beneath the pale, familiar Irish moon.
The past calls home, a whisper on the breeze,
Through gnarled old oaks and weeping willow trees.
I’m anchored here, yet lost within the fray,
Oh, for the green isle and the yesterday.
