By Jennifer Zhang
You still held the candle, walking in the darkness.
Money could not buy light.
Sixpence was the least valuable.
Look, the moonlight above
Lightened the way you came.
The rain soaked the grass.
Branches groan in the rain.
Candlelight reflected in the water.
A nightingale was singing, only for lovers.
Hyacinths were sleeping in the quiet.
At the edge of the island,
The laughter on the shore
Masks the noise of the world.
You collect them,
All in your paintings.
After that, you might become a real “painter”.
Wandering around,
Hiding in a thatched hut, using brushes,
To draw thousands of stories
That humans wouldn’t care about.
When the candlelight went out,
How to forgive a fanatic and unrealistic life? People blamed
But you chose to let your stories,
And your mystery,
Burn to ashes.
Buried in the soil.
On an island called
Tahiti.
Jennifer Zhang (she/her) is a Creative Writing student at QUT. Before coming to Brisbane, she studied in various locations including Guangzhou, California and Sydney. Her diverse educational background allows her to see social situations from many perspectives. Her writing usually focuses on reviews of classic fiction or social conditions. Her hobbies are reading, writing, meeting new people, and going to the gym.
This poem was inspired by the book, ‘The Moon and Sixpence’ by W. Somerset Maugham.
