Conor, once so frail,
clinging bravely to life.
Now, big and strong
a fine young man and gentle son.
You loved, lost, learnt of grief.
Now she watches you from above,
her man, no longer a boy,
determined to make her proud.
Paul, the second,
a tender life so brief.
You battled against the odds.
Four days struggle with all your might.
Its an honour to share your name.
Ciara, the first princess
brains to burn, skills to shine,
making me so proud on every hill you climbed,
on every challenge faced.
Off to foreign shores you left,
brilliance dazzling all you met,
and made a home with an English gent,
and two fine girls you rared.
And last, but never least, Megan
God's last gift, a second princess
Just a tender rose, in midst of bloom.
Considerate, modest , kind
and wise beyond your youth.
The world is your garden.
Enjoy.
© Paul O' Neill 2012