Not gentians, not the tea room, but Ballyvaughan at dawn, looking across the bay to Galway, the lights so cozy.
The gentians are blooming as we eat lemon cake
In the tearoom called An Féar Gorta
Your home comes to be
Mine for a week
In sweet Ballyvaughan, County Clare.
And I'm happy & sad as though Ireland were mine ~
The Burren, the pubs and the sea
You spark & you joke
While I long for the pie
Of An Féar Gorta, Ballyvaughan.
References to the lovely song "Sweet Ballyvaughan, "Terence's poem "An Féar Gorta" & to his song "When New York Was Irish."