The Irishman Poem by Sebastian Mari

I met an Irishman on the road one day
His hat made of black leather and coat of brightest grey.
He wore an honest smile so I joined him on his stroll
He spoke of his travels and stories he seldom told
Now he was on his was to Dublin
To find his share of Gold

Well now, the town to where we headed was ten days away
And with our legs to take us there, we journeyed not in haste.
We spoke of life and how the past is made
He had a lot of words to speak and how is love he dearly paid.
How he lost everything to keep the girl of his dream
How he almost gave up living as a prided human being.
Of the times his heart broke when he couldn’t live without her.
Of the times in his life he regretted having to doubt her.
He said he was once a wiseman for the king of Spain
When days he was happy and rich and had a powerful name.

Yet, today he is a nobody searching his resting on this earth
Just to live peacefully and not worry what his life was worth.
We parted ways when we reached the outside of Dublin
I never met the Irishman again but I often spoke of him.

Of all I’ve learnt whilst he spoke of those wonderous things
Of how he couldn’t find the difference between fools and kings
Of how he couldn’t find the comfort that true love brings;
But most importantly of how if a man can have love within his soul
And still drift in the loneliness of growing old.