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Across emerald skies, I see your face
hidden in the stones and voices
Of spiraled Cairns, in the promise of
Donegal rain and rainbows, in the row
of the Spanish and brogue, in the
pounding surf of the three waves;
I exult in your wide smile and pealing
laughter echoing at Tara. I miss the Sun
on your face and the  vision of you disappearing
out to sea, your even, melodic strokes taking the minds
eye to shambalic rhythms…like your pen’s voice, that taught
me to hear the invisible and reach for my own voice … I miss
marmalade skies on a Brooklyn’s eve, and songs uplifted
for the ole green sod. You are my hearts fire, my Sun’s rise
and my evening nightingale, and I shall sing your life like
Annabelle;  all the night long, by your side, by the sea, the sea.


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