Patrice Day

Saint Patrice day In 1957 my ship docked in the town of Cork (Ireland) If you think that is a long time ago, you are probably right but in my head, it was yesterday. Life was slower back then, cargo was lowered into donkey carts, there were many mules waiting we went to a pub, a stone a throwaway and drank Guinness Never did I tell my mother, but I told her of the Irish girl I was going to marry had red hair and green eyes she had the aroma of an angel. Leisureliness has ended ships leave as ships do On the shore, she waved, we cried, and people smiled they didn’t know; no one had loved so deeply as us. Our letter writing petered out, so many adventures for young minds I met a girl in Amsterdam, she had a bike. My mother asked about the Irish girl. Her name was Catlin.