What shall I bring you, mother dear?
Cried he, fluttering a flustered;
An iridescent pearl from oceans deep, or
Crystal drops of morning dew?
A pretty necklace of tortoiseshell, or
The finest stole of softest wool?
My child, she replied in gentle ways
I want happiness for you always;
Bring me anything you may please
An evening hug or morning kiss
For you are the very core of my life
My love for you eternal, without a price.
This was a time when I felt strangely drawn to the Irish culture. If it could be possible, I would think I’d been Irish before. It’s a strange yearning I always felt whenever I closed my eyes to the winds.
I was back again;
that unmistakable fragrance of
surrounds me –
a mother embraces
The winds beckon
and I run
of pounding hooves.
Almost there now
he has returned.
Strains of uilleann pipes
Filed under family, love, poetry