QUILTY LONG AGO … JAN 10TH, 2013
BY
My mind is sometimes caught in
memories of very long ago,
When I carried water in a heavy bucket
and I moved quite slow,
Along the shore road in Quilty when I saw a small group
of men,
Huddled listening to a hurling match
on the wireless back then.
That little half-door house may have
been the post-office place,
They had electricity and a wireless
to suffice just in case,
It was a time of horses and donkeys
pulling farmers’ carts,
Simple times and places where no one
knew anything about the arts.
Sometimes time stands still and I’m
still there as I passed looking on,
In the rain and wind in Ireland though
no doubt; they’re all gone,
But my mother needed the bucket of
water so I passed,
Maybe I should have stayed for a
while and listened and asked.
Jan 10th, 2013
