“The time has come,” a small voice said,
“To talk of many things.
“The break is over, fun must end,
“It’s time to clip your wings.”
A weary traveller, I did submit,
And laid my head to rest,
Winding streets and train-filled-dreams,
A nine-month trip of little stress.
But time did pass and I set sail,
This time for a different cause.
Left blissful ignorance behind,
For the clutch of employment’s jaws.
I set my sights on Newcastle,
A new treasure to uncover,
And here I sit, now settled in,
Searching for a new path to discover.
Coffee grinds and ocean breeze,
Surround my every movement.
The pounding steps of running feet,
Reminders my health needs improvement.
Rumbles from the ocean paths,
As trawlers ship their load.
Euphoric screams from ocean baths,
A kind of foreign code.
I walk around with squinting eyes,
While soaking in the view,
“A new girl in town,” I feel them stare,
They know it to be true.
Past characters from days gone by,
Keep knocking at my door.
Comparisons with new ventures,
Too hard to ignore.
The temptation to retrace my steps,
Attempts to grasp my mind,
Teasing with exotic thoughts,
Of places left behind.
“The night is young,”
The small voice says,
“No need to worry yet.
“This journey has a plan for you,
“With money I would bet.
“You took the plunge,
“Your wings are clipped,
“You belong here among the new.
“Soon you will be old in town,
“And yourself part of the view.”