How did I come to be in Ireland?
Melinda Roberts
It was not the rolling green hills or Leprechauns
That drew me to Ireland,
But that I was once told,
Study abroad, sometime when you can.
I feared the weather,
Dreadfully hating rain.
Unsure of the situation,
I hoped I had much to gain,
Through spending my summer far, far away,
In a land that was foreign,
Leaving the comfort of home, warmth, and family.
My collywobbles have been absolved,
Off the coast they now reside,
For repose I have now found,
In the country, new friends, not to mention that bouncy van.
Oh bangers, oh mash, and what are those? Chips?
You can argue with me that,
For you don’t have to
Rub my fur in the right direction.
Wilde the Irish writers: Yeats, Joyce, and Heaney
Who inspired me with their angst.
Round towers and cathedrals remind me of the religious history,
That still affects life and politics today.
Oh Ireland, please find peace,
For you are a nation of beauty.
Leave the past behind for
Hope lies in your hills, your shores, and your quays.
My time here is short,
It waxes and wanes with the day,
But I rejoice in my sojourn,
A meatpie of a stay.
My memories will not be lost in the Shadowlands,
Because they are vivid and lofty.
Goodbye dear Shamrock Island,
May I come back another day?
No comments:
Post a Comment