Along the Shannon runs a path paved with my life’s memories.
If trees could talk they would speak to me as friends,
Of childhood recollections and sunny Sunday walks
Where I ran and played Hide and Seek with my sister,
Where I strolled with my parents burdened by the grief of her loss,
Where I rowed as a schoolboy and watched sunsets on the river.
Where I sprinted, as an athlete, with Olympic dreams-
Where I sat with my father and talked about his grave illness.
Where I walked hand in hand with the girl who would become my wife.
Where I held my baby son as he took his first steps.
Where we spoke of dreams and plans; our future looked so bright.
The years passed and a new life beckoned in a distant town:
Happiness, success, our plans fulfilled with little reason to frown,
I returned and trudged that path again with news that rocked my world.
Time stood still, disease had struck, my wife gone to the Lord.
For a moment the mighty Shannon beckoned that November day-
The impact on my son helped keep those thoughts at bay.
Time moved on, that darkness gone, my mind is yet again clear.
Two little girls brightened up my life with laughter and good cheer.
I want to hold them by the hand and walk that path once more
And speak of fairytales and dreams and stories of before.