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Personal Note:

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Poem

didn't intend to 
be in another Irish pub
but it's raining
and they're so much better
in the land of saints and scholars
where
musicians don't play for
tourists

John a school teacher
brought the fiddle that
he learned to play at
his mom's set dances
(Set dancing lessons--Mondays 7pm) 

Sarah, the pretty lass
the other side of me
brought her mom
Mom's sipping Jameson because
it's the best she declares
absolutely, I concur 
and clink my glass (of Powers)
with hers

sláinte

Sarah's drinking ginger beer
made right here at the Cobblestone
I bought you one she informs
you have to try it
bartender lines it up 
with the two in front of me

sláinte

Sarah doesn't lie
feeling toasty

the burly man
with the gravelly voice
playing those raucous pub songs
lays down his guitar and yells
who's next

John makes his way
with Sarah and her mom following
someone points to me
you're with the ladies
come on 
and they sit me down
in musicians corner
to hear an Irish girl sing a Scottish song

And I know what I will do tomorrow
When the hands are shaken and the kisses flow
Then I will disappear

hauntingly beautiful 
a fiddle, a sweet soprano
and Irish eyes 

Oh, but let me tell you that I love you
That I think about you all the time
Caledonia you're calling me
And now I'm going home 

oh, 
home

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