Notes from a Time Traveller by Elke Stevens

It was not planted, but on a balter winter’s day, I slid my wheels off the ferry on a stranger’s land, where I was not meant to be.

The wrath of Orkney is one of stranded departures and arrivals, forcing the vagabond to stay a little longer. Just long enough to see the first flower of the season bloom.

Where no city lights will brighten up the path, but where the dancing light at night guides all souls to not be strangers.

A stranger in an old stranger’s land, confronted with shattered dreams, where geals of rain cool a mind lost in a Lybrand of dark thoughts.

No longer new, not one of them, yet, the heart has found a smile, not attached, not attached, but beautifully confused.

Have I fallen in love with the unexpected? A rough diamond with a softcore?

In the stranger’s land, the stones are standing proud, the hills glow in the winter sun with a mantel fog arming around them like a blanket.

I’m a stranger in a stranger’s land, with rolling hills every day, waters mirror the sky, births sing you out of bed, the night sky full of starts blanketing the air around to a wondrous feeling, where the Selkie serenades to the dingle and fisherman, no one is a stranger.

In the quiet coves of Orkney’s rough seas, I, once a stranger sigh where the heart can fly.

The Dancing Lights whisper tales, maybe sweet, Orkney’s heartbeat, steady and discreet, in every story, our fates do meet, for now, I’m no longer being a vagabond.

In this stranger’s land, love takes over, through fog and rain, a bond to uncover; Orkney, my heart, you are the discovery; in every rolling hill, a memory lies.

On every star full night, dreams arise, and some fade, Orkney, you’ve opened my heart’s eyes.

A chapter closes but love never dies.

Elke. T.B. Stevens 01/12/2023