Ringsend Road



A poem written in dedication to my great grandfather Toby Breslin

Sleepy streets awoke to the chirps of mother nature

They stood on silent corners, Sackville street a creature


An Easter moon peered above as he walked past frosted windows

A siren echoed past East Wall, but would they hear his call?


When morning came to lighten loads and bags under the eyes

With interest held the mind is fed, but idle mouths are common


Polished boots and fresh pressed shirts the Mill was where they stood

The barricades and firearms shot through splintered wood


And after days of rattled nerves the gunship showered wounds

Upon the frame of freedom stained by battles fought by youth


They raised the flag to signal change but nothing new has grown

Upon this land we’ve turned our backs on ideas once were sown

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