The sound of waves crashing
The light of the Sun dazzling on distant Kerry shores;
A flock of gulls and a crow soaring through the sky;
He sits swinging in the playground
With the strong smell of Atlantic blowing through his nose and hair;
They say its the last pub before New York,
but the Guinness tastes of Divinity.
His stillness and calm brought by the beautiful shore
and sweet bird melody provides time to reflect.
His contemplation, of words thoughts and feelings and of how he could possibly ever express them;
He may never truly understand
but should he feel content?
He knows that only the thoughtless man is present;
But Augusts Sun beats brightly and takes him away from Now,
Reminiscent of the beauty he met before he sat on the shores of Kilbaha.
