His hair is iron and steel,
as is his will,
Cast in rigid form
A trait of necessity
It gleams silver
The gold wedding Promise on his heart finger
interrupts
Laughing at the sun
Its twinkle fills my eyes
Its vigour and perseverance,
like the will,
Is more than fifty years old
The deep intelligent blues
examine,
The flaw amongst the wood shavings.
He generously endowed me
with those blues
Two great oceans
of gentleness and knowing
The wind softly whispers
Éire is telling her child that
he has portrayed her well
The man of twenty is still here
His shell is somewhat changed…
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