It was within a quiet place
where my Father liked to dwell .
It was there he found the storm of life
inside began to quell .
He often took me with him there,
and to you a tale I'll tell ,
Of the day we went for a walk,
where the morning sunlight fell .
From Silverstream to Ballygomartin,
my Father and I ,
We climbed up the side of a mountain,
that almost touched the sky .
Then on the way back home ,
we found a pigeon that couldn't fly .
Dad tucked it inside his coat pocket ,
where it was warm and dry .
As twilight fell down on Ligoniel ,
we made our way back home .
Then a cage he knocked together
for a bird we didn't own .
The with a splint bandage on its wing ,
we left it there alone ,
One day we said goodbye ,
as into the sky, the bird had flown .
By Paul McCann
Originally Posted On Site: 2008-06-16 22:50:03
Last Login: 05.24.12
Visits as of 12-12-07: 146
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