I Will Give You Ireland
By Caitlin Liston

Many years a widow
But she still wears his ring
Her tired yet strong hands
Slowly and precisely
Choose each patch
Pull each thread
And form the quilt of Ireland

Each golden bush carefully placed
Upon the rolling green hills
Oh, the magnificence of her work
Shines like the sun on her face
Her ever immortal face
The face that many have looked to
In sadness and misery
In jubilation and delight

The sun is forever setting
Casting a pink glow upon the clouds
Contrasting with the emeralds and limes
That so readily envelop her
Never too warm
Never too cold
She will stay there eternally
Creating her masterpiece

She never wearies
Never tires of her work
Her eyebrows raised
What comes next?
She knows the unrevealed pattern
That we know not
That we will never know
Forever will it be trapped
In her everlasting smile

And at the end of the day
Should that day ever come
She will move away from her quilt
Stretch out her hands
And say:
"I will give you Ireland"