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by Denny Lancaster
230907
Sitting on the porch way winds so cool,
with sunlight fading in the west now fast,
twilight brings on her shining star to rule,
working hours for another day are past.
Darkness deepens, now gone the light,
her nimble fingers catch mine eyes
continuing to weave and sew in sight,
the fabric of the Celtic touch the skies.
She continues with sleep in the lands
as one lone figure who lingers still,
young and patient, she sits or stands,
in our mind at sleep, we feel a thrill.
O God, with the thrill of her deft sound,
as she patiently sits among the round
for her lamplight now lit will not fade,
for her ancient kin to her she bade.
How we hear her sewing in our veins,
in the Emerald Isle ruled by sullen rains,
and when we are old but no distress,
of her craft to others, we shall confess.
For fair is the sun and flames from above,
and happy is she we can salute with love,
for of her craft assembled, we see them all
nor for her may only affection and love fall.
Thus we promise not to fade or pursue in vain,
for she conquered earth, which is man's domain,
and mist and stars and all things which are between,
believe in Faeries, though by some are not seen.
Footnote: Among the precious friends we have on this earth, our Celtic friends shine. Nancy Monaghan exemplifies the most precious qualities a mere human may find in a
"true friend." Please visit her online gift shop with the link in the graphic, which Nancy created.
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