Dear Old Blighty by Ian Lewis Copestick

Brit Grit, Ian Copestick, Poetry, Punk Noir Magazine


Dear Old Blighty

I think these must be
my favourite evenings,
peaceful vibes, blue
skies, the sun slowly
setting as the birds
warble away. It’s like
the start of an Agatha
Christie book, almost
a cliche of olde
England. Except for
the sun reflecting off
the windows of the
council houses, but
even that’s beautiful.
At moments like
this I feel something
close to patriotism, but
it’s just an appreciation
of the beauty of this
landscape. Take me
back to dear, old Blighty
and I haven’t even left.