He sees the beauty in the dance
The aching desire, the stark romance
As images come cascading, tumbling blind
And words invades his screaming mind.
So he strives to perfectly capture
The agony and the rapture
To wrap it up in joy or fear
And craft the word so we will hear
And see life through his eyes
See the truth and lies
But still greet the day as a child
See beauty in a land despoiled.
© Dave Kavanagh @ daithiocaomanaigh.com