Archives

“Bridge Of Memories” By Tom Ryan

Barry’s Bridge, Thurles, Co. Tipperary.

Bridge Of Memories.

© Author & Poet Tom Ryan.

By the mossy bridge at the ford,
Where tired cattle drink,
My folks were all around me there,
Or so I like to think.

Near my mother’s house of old
This lovely spiritual truth,
Oh, joyous, warm abode
Of a dear and distant youth.

Midst the flowers and the scents of the summer air,
I felt, oh, I feel, they are still yet there,
My gentle folks of the mountain land,
By the sparkling waters, on either hand.

We brought the cart to the bridge below,
To cool the iron-rimmed wheels,
With a tired old jennet I once loved so,
Who’d gifted me a thousand thrills.

We bathed our little children’s feet,
Splashed till joyous hours were done,
All day playing in sun and heat
Hearts and heaven in unison.

Midst the flowers and the scents of the summer air,
I felt, oh, I feel, they are still yet there,
My gentle folks of the mountain land,
By the sparkling waters on either hand.

Where magic through cool water flows.
And foxes, hares run fast and free
Oh, fluttering now my heart it goes
So carefree now in memory.

I felt, I feel, and will not yield,
My people love e’en yet this field;
And we who live and they now gone,
Are still, in love, in unison.

And all around me in the air
Hearts that love and hearts that care,
In this sweet place I loved when young
Happy my flesh and blood among.

Midst the flowers and the scents of the summer air,
I felt, oh, I feel, they are still yet there,
My gentle folks of the mountain land,
By the sparkling waters, on either hand.

End

Tom Ryan, “Iona”, Rahealty, Thurles, Co. Tipperary.

Facebooktwitterlinkedinmail

Leave a Reply

You can use these HTML tags

<a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>

  

  

  

thirteen + four =

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.