You,
my gentle and sunshiney soul,
are a cup of rose tea
on a cloudless summer's day
in a floral china cup
by a hummingbird's nest.
You are the sun-kissed shoulders
of the lucky creature
who lifts the porcelain to its lips
and empties the contents down its throat,
smooth as water,
rich as wine.
You, my gentle and sunshiney love,
are days spent in gardens,
tending to zinnias and hyacinths
and swatting gently at dopey bumblebees.
You are the cobblestone paths,
providing sense and reason to the
maze of greenery,
old as Eden,
faithful as Sky.
You, my gentle and sunshiney heart,
are a ninety-nine with a chocolate flake
on an only-semi crowded beach
somewhere in Wexford.
You are the jumpered torso,
and the bikinied legs,
of those who dare to enter the navy sea,
warm as coffee,
timid as a fly.
You are, simply,
Clemency
in its purest and kindest form.
You are extract of sunshine
and Clemency.
You are the lighthouse in
the depths
of the storm.
