When I was a kid
I used to visit you
And Betty too
On Cook Street
In Cork.
Cook Street,
One of those little streets one can find only in Ireland
And nowhere in America
Or anywhere else I’ve ever lived.
Your little watchmaker shop
Hidden away
Atop a winding third floor stairs
Hidden away
From most of the world
Yet known to all those who wore a watch,
That ticked
And tocked
All of days before life grew up
And became complicated.
How many times do you suppose I visited you there
Before my own travels began?
They were many.
I remember them all,
As if they were one long visit
One Long journey,
Or story
Now concluded.
You were a bundle of life Michael … with many stories the same way told. Today, you’re going on one more trip – when you get there, say “Hi” to those gone before you, from all of us still here … especially to those that went before their time … tell them we miss them … Have a good trip bubba …
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qRGMg0TsTB4
