Boats bobbing. Cresting and falling at an easy pace.
The familiar sound of rigging clanging. The wind in my face.
A fishy smell. Not unpleasant. Fresh to prepare.
For serving at eateries – the best of their fare.
The view of sailors’ vessels before the repast.
The taste of their fish, that they had amassed.
A walk past the vessels, see a new perspective.
What seemed powerful factual, is actually subjective.
A stroll on the pier to see Ireland’s Eye.
The late June sun lighting the land, sea, and sky.
The lighthouses offer, two different views.
With each passing moment comes changing its hues.
Such perfection in nature, for a beautiful stroll.
Relaxing, exploring and cleansing the soul.
As darkness falls on your wonderful day,
A sense of wellbeing makes you want to stay.
Memories of youth, both innocent and not.
As a child and a teen, I carved out my lot.
Long summer days inhaling pure air.
Suburbanite kids explore without care.
Feeling a freedom, I’d never felt before.
Summer was ending, impossible to ignore.
I understood the worth of the beauty before me.
One place in life I might always feel free.
Three thousand miles distant in a foreign land,
My sweet children learn about their own homeland
Each time I go back I make sure that they see
The beauty of my place, the place I felt free.
We eat fresh seafood and walk by the boats.
I tell them my secrets, as usual with emotes.
Each time that they love it, it reminds me of me.
My heart breaks a little that it’s now history.
As my bloodline dilutes, they will no longer care.
Some long-gone great-grandma’s favorite place over there.
I hope for a mixture of race, culture, and creed,
Lie in the future of my descendants who breed.
Make the world worth living. Melt the whole pot.
Who will care about there, that they heard as a tot?
About a beautiful place in my small island home.
Where I doubt that one of them will ever roam.
It’s mine and mine only, not selfish or bold
Quite simply I love it as no other could hold.
Do I care what happens to my body when done?
What I might want right now, it will matter none.
With all of that said if I’m scattered at all,
Dump me in Howth, in the sea by a pier wall.
Running Half Empty 