An Irish interlude

 I'm not done yet with my recollection of what happened on the fair Emerald Isle this summer, but I wanted to give you, as my reader, a little breather. So here's a poem dedicated to Steven and his friend Flipper

In the rolling hills of Donegal

I found my life anew.

I heard the bleating of a lamb

a voice I thought I knew.

She lived in upper Tullydish

in a field so fresh and green.

She's Flipper, Stevens own pet-lamb

her smile's the fairest seen.

Her best friend Steven

is a lad I also do know well.

His voice is soft, his thoughts are quick

he's got fairytales to tell.

Of kings and birds and foreign lands,

of treasures great and small.

And they come alive in Donegal

when the dark rain start to fall.

His kingdom is the wide green fields

and the hills so grey and wild.

His wealth is not in diamonds, gold

but in warming hugs so mild.

His smile can make the sun burst through

a thunderstorm so black.

And before you know he's been away

he has managed to come back