Bronagh
She came here in Winter, the last bloom of Spring,
With a glimmer of moonlight, sun’s light did she bring;
She came here in Winter, with hair like the wind,
Wild fire so free like her spirit did sing.
The girl from the Picta, wild-eyed she did come,
A smile so infectious, so brazen and fun;
The girl from the Picta, beauty so free,
The glint in her eye would fill you with glee.
She stayed for a time, for a story, a song,
Her wit and her charm to enjoy with the throng;
She stayed for a time, but I had not the chance,
For she left in a hurry ‘fore I could ask her to dance.
So now as I ponder her beauty, her grace,
That lights up the bar and brightens the place;
So now do I ponder, with Winter’s cold snows,
Will she return when the first flowers grow?
All Works are © Original Author
(OC Author - Paul Martin)