How she must have missed
the green hills of Ireland.
Walking along hard grey
streets in Brooklyn.
Remembering scent of
grassy meadows hurrying
along ten long blocks, to
climb filthy subway steps.
Missing those sweet soft pastures,
on her way home from work
buying day old bread, searching for
dented cans and items on sale.
Her marriage failed and her health
gone. Her smiling days were over.
No one seemed to care.
The unlucky are often alone.
How she must have longed
for songs around the fireplace.
Another Irish colleen torn
from that emerald island.
An immensely poignant and deeply moving portrait.Superb!
A heartfelt and emotionally engaging work.
Thank you, gentlemen, very much.
a touching poem with wounds of a separated heart from its roots.
Awesome, it makes one feel for the pain expressed.