A New Lands Springtime Enchantment
Beyond the blue Atlantic’s jagged hem,
across her briny depths, we sailed for days.
We’d not forget earth’s fairest greenest gem
which faded from our sad, collective gaze.
When misty-eyed, we turned and faced the west,
our bellies burned; our boat by waves was tossed.
And yet, in one respect, I had been blessed.
Enchantment followed me and was not lost.
The strange new land had not our isle’s charm.
But hunger left; I laughed and labored hard.
I married; then I bought a little farm
and loved to see the garden in my yard.
For sometimes pretty faeries I would see.
In springtime, Ireland’s faeries danced for me!
May 3, 2020 for Emile Pinet's Spring Rhyme Poetry Contest
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