In grey, damp Ireland I stand
By seaweed wall and musseled rock
Drawn back to that amorphous place
I fled with no regret
I went to glass and steel – concrete
Relentless sun, unceasing blue
Brown earth, bright colors, garish glare
In warm seas – shed the grey
On fine, white sand, cavorted, splayed
Oh those were happy, happy days
But paradoxically I found
That I was missing Ireland
Mysterious and unexplained
This ancient gra which has us chained
If hell was our birthplace – well then
‘Tis hell we’d praise with song and pen
I lie in bed as wind and rain
Fling seagulls through the charged air
Remember times long, long ago
My mother bent to stroke my hair
I will stay only for a while
But feel a strange contentment
That I am back on ancient soil
And I’ll be missing Ireland.