Joy surges when thinking of you.
This bond shared I can’t believe true.
Yet I wake each morning and there you are.
Your loving embrace never ever far.
If luck there be, I have the most.
Our morning coffee’s deserving of a toast.
Days filled with laughter and peace,
every second I wish to never cease.
The future’s now, tomorrow’s unknown.
The time’s to prosper from pasts we’ve sown.
Our paths merged and the journey’s begun.
Hand in hand, we two are now one.
Good morning to my brethren, our time has begun.
Let’s don our garb; share a toast and all have some fun.
It’s finally St. Paddy’s day, cheers to one and all.
Our heritage’s expansive, though our part may be small.
Diaspora may dilute our tasty brews of green,
the potency of the day now not clearly seen.
But snakes can’t writhe when we happily parade.
And a festival it is and never will it fade.
From Pagan and Druid to the trinity of leaf,
a saint named Patrick triumphed over grief.
His plight heroic and his resilience reinforced,
a feast deserved, though now locally sourced.
With homage to our forebears, together we shall stand.
Today I’ll wear my green and gladly shake your hand.
Our faith in worldly friendship unites, dare to be bold.
Good luck to all and may you find your pot of gold.