To see the shapes of your home city
With a far off traveller’s eye
What a queer and lovely little feeling
To freshly hear the river’s sigh.
Swans paddle by to their mute tune
As the Spring sun shines unimpugned.
I once worked here, my mother works there
These nooks and crannies in my heart I wear
Oileán an Rí and the Estuary
The Crescent’s arcs and Arthur’s Quay Park.
This is my homeland singing to me
As the singing sands of distant seas
Exotic sirens from far away
Call to what’s weary of wind and rain
But the thing about those perfect pictures
With sands and sea and cocktail pitchers
Is that they lack the stamp of home
That marks these places as my own.

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