Love O’ God In Clover

Oh Ireland, I am your daughterGenerations removed but not the wonderDrawn to your lore and mysteryI’ve dreamed of you across the sea. I am a mut, a mix of kinGrown up in Poor Town, OregonMy father’s chin, red beard covered,Reminds me of a special clover I walked along a mossy pathIn Oregon’s green wildernessMy broken... Continue Reading →

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