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A chamber holds a valise

 marked for destiny

 within the heart of Colleen,

awaiting the Emerald sea –

She knows the call of ages,

its smell laid out to rest

the Celtic Cross imbedded

long within her breast –

Never seeing shores of Ireland,

she wears it as a knit,

coarse woolen yarn knotted

by means of sunless light;

such warms the mind of Colleen

as mother’s crescent night


Laura, Laura Colleen

the tide speaks in name –

The heart of Laura Colleen with fire,

holds Ireland in flame: seeded

as the autumn in strands

adorning a fairer skin; elfin as

the woodland in expectation

of a storm


She stands among specters

of years lost to a written word; its

scribing takes now hold over 

reverence to the jewel – once ruled

when serpents still knew favor, savored

meadow only a vision in her

myth and mist.


That for

heart of Laura Colleen

awaits her chosen ship



copyrighted 2008


 for my sister – Laura Colleen- always Irish