Return to Little StreetA Poem by McElticA place I visit each St Patrick’s Day
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Traditions lead to streets of dream to scant abodes beneath the green So tiny small 'neath gardens tall with russet stacked above them all ~ Their chimneys waft of fire's stoke the meek step forth though bashful folk The pitter pat of little feet arise the length of Little Street ~ They take my hand as pipers chant descend the street with river's dance Around about the dancers croon to every home I'm blessed ... buffoon ~ Tranquil glade amongst the heather sparks ignite the moods in feather Flames leap forth as cauldrons coddle tubers roast as whispers twaddle Pipes I fill and pints I swallow Tip 'em Back their chant seems hollow ~ Breaking bread their stew yumm - titious though in my head their brew grows vicious ~ Little Street a fading glow still ... I was little once you know The shutters close the visions wane their magic carves my hiking cane Another day another plane the child inside asleep again ~~ © 2018 McElticReviews
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5 Reviews Added on March 11, 2018 Last Updated on March 11, 2018 AuthorMcElticLondon, CanadaAboutIf you continue to think what you have always thought... you will continue to get what you have always got more..Writing
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