My mother
finds her roots in
the Scottish moors,
the English lake district.
My father’s
ancestors hail from
Russia, Austria,
Poland.
No blood flows
through my veins
tinged by the waters
of the river Shannon.
Yet,
Ireland has won my heart.
Walking St. Stephen’s Green;
sharing a pint
at the Palace Bar;
reading Yeats, Joyce,
Behan, O’Brien
at the MoLI;
roaming the blustery
shore of Galway;
bowing my head
to honor those lost
in Belfast.
Today,
I ate Irish soda bread
with Kerry butter
and took my heart back
to the green shores
of Ireland.
A Reading Life 
Cheers, my friend! A timely slice for today.
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Love taking this stroll with your Irish heart and feeling all your love for Ireland. I want to go there someday.
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Fighting w/ Word Press, above comment from Ramona.
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I like your structure, as you explain how you have no blood roots in Ireland in three four word stanzas, then you break into a short verse and a long one (that I might use as an inspiration slice!) then finish off with your verse of today. It adds up to a really nice poem, or perhaps love letter.
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