Down by the fishing weir,
Up by the café,
You'll always find me in my dear Emerald City.
Bookshops and game shops
And shoe shops and toy shops -
It seems to have everything all of the time.
Busy people fill busy streets
And the putrid smell of petrol burns my nose.
Teens with greased hair hold hands and giggle
And drunken old men stumble and grumble.
Charity chuggers carry coins by the cathedral,
Never to drop into the pockets of the homeless
That lay by the road.
Lemon meringue pies and cups of hot chocolate
Are served in lively coffee shops
While buskers croon a tune outside.
Walking together, I will hold his hand.
When the illness infects its last victim,
I'll return to my Emerald City
Where I long to be.
YOU ARE READING
Koi Boy
PoetryA collection of poetry I've written to document some of the experiences I've had as a young person living in Ireland.
