DAD – a poem by pd lyons from: Wanting To Be In The Old Tongue


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DAD

~

The swans out in the field

Their secrets not revealed

Passing into silent flight are they

Perhaps their subtle sigh

Stifles some deeper cry

As they know you’ll be leaving much too soon

~

Walking down the lane

The filly foals refrain

Their running is the sound of falling rain

Are they restless from the summer?

Or somehow do they know

You’ll not stay to seen them fully grown

~

By the fairy mounds of old

The pock marked GPO

Cross the Boyne to bang your head on spiral stone

See the wonders down at Fore

And the ancient seat of kings on Tara hill

~

Now sitting by the fire the music’s playin’ low

(Guess) I’ll raise a glass or two before I go

Though it’s to an empty chair not your smiling face I stare

(Yet) whenever that door slams  expect to see you there.

~

And sitting here I wonder

All those stories finally told

Revealed how in our youth

We were so very much the same.

Was it drink that made us bold?

Or did we speak so true

Because somehow we knew

You’d not be coming back this way again?

.

 

 

may all who journey remember

may all who journey remember

 

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