An Ode to St. Pat
I make it a point to say my mother
Is full-blooded Irish; gives me a right,
I conclude, to drink all I want and curse
With God’s okay. As a half-Irishman,
I have a tendency to admire women
With full breasts and the wherewithal
To say whatever is on their minds–
All the while knowing I can read
Their minds like a leprechaun.
Of course my magic is limited within
My own linen, an all too familiar feeling
That is seeded by love and mistaken
For thoughts that are all too common.
nineteen ninety-six
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
Cheers !!
Cheers, indeed!
Not cheers – Sláinte 😉 Nicely done.
Cheers, Mike!
So playful and so you 🙂 🙂
thank you 😀
A poem could be written on an Irish linen handkerchief, (or petticoat) it has a kind of sexy lilt, love it.
Thank you so very much, Denise!
(please pardon my delayed reply!!)
I could be a doctor I have so much patience…lol