Michael; thy words etch upon my heart, remembering a mornin’ shared upon the Motte. Salute thee; great Rebel, Leader & Statesman… and to Kitty; you – her love, fair, right & honourable man. And oh how you just longed to be here, to climb the grassy bank and view the Inny, Derravaragh, Sheelin & Kinale. Hope & vision hand in hand. Ascending o’er daily toil to the Heartland. Cold, chapped lips craft thy inked words, as my soul sheds a tear for our lost kindred worlds. Sure as every twilight tucks another passing day to sleep, faithful promises you truely vowed to keep… A Golden band for Kitty’s hand… Freedom, Peace & Justice for our dear Island. Alas, loud the bell tolls as seconds to attention stand still. Forever the wind shall whisper of your love o’er the Motte on Granard hill.
Le grá, D 💕