by Michael Schwoerer

Created on: April 07, 2010

To the seasons beginning,

After working so hard in the fields of Ireland’s clover.

As me luck would have it I found a shady spot to rest.

Not knowing of the time,

I went into fast sleep thinking of me lucky lass.

When the spring time rain drops started to fall.

Awakening me to a soft but beautiful dream of Ireland emerald greens.  

As I saw her in the fields of clover,

Her body cascaded.  

Spraying from her long and silky hair,

To the very stepping of her feet,

Dancing in the mist of her silhouette form.

To the many songs of the seas carried in waves to me ears of me love.   

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