Abigail
I feel the dream coming,
lying lonely in my bed.
Trying to hold past times,
holding memories instead.
Now I’m softly drifting,
yes, leaving this world behind.
Floating in the moonlight
to a place I know I’ll find.
Through the sweet grass walking,
wildflowers, all tall and bright,
there it is, just ahead,
white picket fence, now in sight.
Near the stone she’s standing,
as I walk through the old gate,
reading etched names again,
she reads and patiently waits.
White dress with pink ribbons,
her hair in a golden band.
She smiles and says, “Hi Daddy,”
as she holds out her hands.
I kneel, arms around her,
and hold her close to me.
She smells of sun and flowers,
and of the Irish sea.
Small hand on my face,
another ruffles my hair.
Question in those blue eyes,
“When will you come live here?”
Through misty eyes I see,
sailing high, a full, bright moon.
Drifting away, I say,
“Soon now, my dear, very soon.”
| 
