Lille

Is there more to learn, your Ma's all scorn, she'll see me burn, strung trees yellow robes, with vinegar and thorns, and ways she would know, a harvest unearned, i'm lucky to be born, the way you spurned, hate of such a load, in fields of corn, free from any crowd, your mother flared, like a hurricane storm, but you didn't care, kissed me and shared, a summertime sojourn, time to spare, on fine blue mornings.

Layla

The tap tap falling rain, gauges your great freedom, a hurting awakens, for the cafe's and diners, within last nights ease, solace turns blind, and your home erased, except on these yellow streets, you walk all day, where love gets twined, beneath cooling trees, blue air melts in crime, Our Lady knows your ways, in these hot seasons, whatever you have to say, does it matter the maze, the river's release, the balm of better days, makes you weep.

Louisa

The love that tricked us, absolved and arrayed, brings trouble or forgiveness, when seasons turn think, don’t keep it chained, to the Calendar or sink, at grey games of business, that cap your flame, keep the hurt to minimum, dance around the ice rink, when problems rage, does Speed makes you blink, at forgotten arrangements, we've all heard your tales, drunk at Catechism, is loving the terminus, when cafe's swell with rain, or unshaven criminals, whisper your name ?

Lorraine

When she dismisses us, calls us jokers and thieves, we thank you Sister, for shining that star, or crossing the sea, supplying the tar, telling us how to lose, or reside out of reach, when we're confused, she cares who we are, arms swinging free, raising the bar, above telegraph wires, or a sky that deems, to see our ruin, her powdered rush, as sunlight leaps, make our faces flush, she knows it’s not easy.

Leucha

In the Catholic rooms, proclaimed by the sea, grant me what it took, for saying those terrible things, in the shadow of Saint Anthony, who falls across my ring, as by dawn and falling gloom, we wait at the infirmary, footsteps echo in empty shoes, the doctor's say nothing, sometimes it's not to be, love is detached from us, our mother's babies we swoon, hear summer's dark seething, sitting in the television room, it echoes our silly tunes, even gleanings of the wheat, no loss in our fortune, her smile beyond reach.

Lisa

Lara

When did i start crying, was it going back to Ireland, or my son saying, Nana loved the horses, first summer without her lies, on the ferry, kids' resources, or my lover praying, can you please stop sighing, she knows the score, a bucket for the poor, gone is the time, she opened our door, or declaimed us on altar rails, cathedrals to cover her disguise, no matter what she says, now she's on her flight, love makes no one wise, is winter still to gaze, what goes on inside ?