With a crown on my head

I walk the crooked streets of Dublin

We don't need glory to feel at home.


History of my soul

It belonged to you and now

Seven years have passed and I cannot see.


Charming men, excitement and a point of no return

Seven years is a long time

Of solitude.

Photo by Mel Piper
Photo by Mel Piper

Rough edges return to my soul

I can't yet deal with Dublin's emptiness

Unwashed windows and dark bodies.


So maybe I will see you again, dear soul

Your mirror

My friend.


Happy sounds different, but it's close

It is freedom I seek

Freedom to love and hate and be good to myself.


Love you as much as you love me

Stretch my soul across this pavement

Never let it go.


Keep it hidden when you need to

See the city as it is

Embrace it anew.


You have changed and so has she

You both grew old in seven years

Be glad you are not the same.