Patsy

When did I start crying, was it going back to Ireland, or with my son sighing, Nana loved the horses, that first summer not flying, the ferry runs its course, or my lover saying, she can't take any more, decisions we keep delaying, a crescent summer force, we crash away the ties, that make us stand in awe, a broken path of clifftop fables, no one checks our disguise, the blue cover of her table, better than any jackdaw, our love makes us wise, in death she’s still a force, moonlight’s on our side