latter of love

this is personal, from me to me. do not ask me in the comments what's the catch, because there is none. got it?

my culture.. my people.. i was so blind all these years, as you were always there. snowfall in the winter, the sun plays hide and seek with the country of love, home, where i belong. drunken men watch the sunrise over their famous Irish beers, someone plays the whistle~ so beautifull the angels burst in tears.
oh love of mine.. I've never seen you so clearly, singing some old coldplay, as your long red hair blows in the chill of winter. you haven't been up to much lately, taking life slow as ever is a spatiality of yours. eating some pizza, potatoes all day, just being you is so.. Irish.
complaining about your green eyes, so dumb sometimes yet if you knew you'd leave. keep your beauty a secret, love, i want you mine or dead. I'm not creepy, just sharp tonged.. your just as black humored aren't you?
i cant wait until we meet, you'd probably be twenty four and busy in your schoolwork, surprised by the new girl studying physics.. looking at you just like you look at her, and with time looking deeper and falling in love. will you?
you'll never push me, never judge, taking me to Paris and London and Rome, planting trees and holding hands, but not kissing, not quite yet. you don't play music, your voice is clear and soft, how come you don't sing? guess its just you, shy and sweet. to our anniversary i bought you a beanie which hardly covers your little ears, i like it, and you said you do too.