Before I go into the long night

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Before I go into the long night
I want to see the world,
not the whole damn thing,
just the small corners
that smell of salt and fried fish,
where the boardwalk wood
creaks like tired bones,
and the seagulls scream louder than drunks
outside a half-lit tavern.

I want to sit on a splintered bench
in some nowhere harbour in New England,
watching the tide pull the day
out of reach,
and find love,
the kind that doesn’t ask
for time or promises,
just another beer,
just another hour,
before the light goes.

I want to walk the cracked streets
of run down old towns
where the neon signs
still burn pink in the fog,
and the waitress calls me “hun”
without knowing my name,
and that’s enough
more than enough
to make a man believe
he hasn’t wasted his years.

Before I go into the long night,
I want to lean into the wind,
barefoot on the sand,
laughing at nothing
with someone who understands
that the world doesn’t need saving,
it just needs seeing,
before it all
turns black.

 

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By Ian James Kelly

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Ian is a designer by trade, who always had an interest in all things creative. In his teens and early 20's he sang in a number of bands in the thriving Dublin music scene, which is where he became interested in a number of creative disciplines including design, writing and photography. He spends most of his spare time travelling to small towns all across the world trying to capture the essence of them via words and analogue photography.

 

IG: @ianjamesanalog