Upon first looking into Wuthering Heights
I believe I have found my Heathcliff
He bares an undeniable passion and fire
For life and for living and - though he
Perhaps does not poscess the gentry of
An Edgar – I am blessed to be the Catherine
He fell for.
Like them we run wild and free and play
Like children all day; running through fields
Of gold and dancing in streams and laying
On the hill side by The Heights.
We laugh at Thrushcross Grange for its gentry
Stupidly and foolishness and falseness and pretention
And then we return to Wuthering Heights – our own
Fierce, fiery Heights where trees grow uncontrolled and
The grass is never cut.
My Heathcliff, I must thank you for saving me from
The Grange and an Edgar Linton, I life of Heaven I could
Never endure and instead giving me a world in which
My heart can run wild and free and bare an undeniable
Passion – one which I can only hope one day will grow to
Be like yours.
But until then I am free to dream of the moment you
Come home from work and throw your arms around me
And tell me that you love me. You love Me.
I love you.
I will never be stupid enough to be drawn to an Edgar.