Return to Ireland's Eye
Last night I had a dream of Ireland's Eye
wind-ruffled island of my childhood hour
- waves, restless seaweed, cliffs and gull-filled sky
the ruined church, the ever-watchful tower.
After a day exploring crags and beach
we'd board the motorboat to take us home
leaving the islet to unpeopled peace
its history dozing in the deepening gloom.
I dreamt that we were going there once more
with sandwiches and drinks just as before
- found roads there, streetlights, houses and a shop
with canned food, newspapers and fizzy pop.
Dream-isle of childhood - say adieu to me
some tiger crouches where you used to be.
I'm never going back to Ireland's Eye
the dream is fading - best to let it die.
Hugh Mitchell's Other Poems
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