Poem By Alan Dunne

She breezes through the crowd:
The old woman at the barrier
squeezes the soft hands
of her grandchildren, holding on
like a lioness to her cubs.
Looking down she exchanges
smiles and snatches playfully
for the handful of sweets
thrown from the road.
The banners, the colours, the songs
inspire an awakening smile and
she hums to the tune of the céilí band.

She always complains of the
miserable weather, but not today –
Today the spring sun lies broad upon
her beautiful black skin.

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They Didn’t See Him Leave

He slipped away in secrecy:
no tears fell
over the shaded grave,
tucked away in a corner

The Fisherman

The falling sun spreads light upon
These hands that time has torn
Deepened lines, from nets entwined,
Have left the skin all worn.