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To Mary Grace at Twenty-Eight
Your steps so measured, soft and slow,
Through Irish streets where neon glows,
While I match pace, half-step behind,
Your gentle rhythm fills my mind.
Tomorrow brings your twenty-eight,
As Newbridge glows through Darragh's rain,
Like Naevis' light through darkened skies,
Where æ-dreams dance and harmonize.
Sweet Mary Grace, my Savage star,
From Milner Square to Kildare far,
Your spirit bridges every space,
My anchor home, my Mary Grace.
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Copyright ©
I.A. Ryd
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