Irish Eyes Are Smiling

Sink into candle flame. Dry eyes by winter solstice.
Advent and resting. You know the end is near.
You tidy the kitchen. Your cups are colourful.
You know, you know, you know they love you.

In last months, she knew the world by songs of years gone. I’ll know her by hums, wool against skin and crystal goblets in prairie light.
I knew your time by the change in the wind. By the tide’s bend.

In last moments, she knew me by the shade of my eyes. They match her beloved’s.
When they close now, I see them interwoven. Waltzing with reverence. So slowly.
So gently.

Currents to resting. “There’s a tear in your eye
and I’m wondering why, for it never should be there at all;…
When Irish Eyes Are Smiling, sure it’s like a morn in Spring,
In the lilt of Irish laughter,
You can hear the angels sing.” 

In my palm I feel her hand still. I think I’ll hold it forever.
I think I can hear her,
on the May gale.