Saturday's Storyteller: "'Let's go to Ireland,' I said."
by Belinda Roddie
"Let's go to Ireland," I said. "We'll go to Cork first. We'll find An Bodhran and have two pints each, black and gold, crisp and smooth down our throats. We'll dip our toes in the river and try not to get caught or carried away by the current. After that, we'll head to Galway. The city is so beautiful in the early spring. If it doesn't rain, we can stay by the Corrib and eat cheese and onion sandwiches until our stomachs ache. I've seen buskers play uilleann pipes for euros. They'll serenade us as we dance across dangerous cobblestone. In Dublin, there will be celebration. The post office will be lit in somber colors, but there might be a parade. We'll ignore the Guinness Factory for another drink at the Old Brazen Head. When it's dark, I'll sneak you into Stephen's Green or Merrion Square, climbing whatever walls or barricades are in our way. And when sunrise touches our lips, I'll kiss you with dew clinging to my teeth. I'll be sweet and warm and cold and wet all at the same time. And we will settle in our damp clothes against the grass, until the rain finally begins to fall, and we are lost in our own personal lagoon."
This week's prompt was provided by Roger Collins.
"Let's go to Ireland," I said. "We'll go to Cork first. We'll find An Bodhran and have two pints each, black and gold, crisp and smooth down our throats. We'll dip our toes in the river and try not to get caught or carried away by the current. After that, we'll head to Galway. The city is so beautiful in the early spring. If it doesn't rain, we can stay by the Corrib and eat cheese and onion sandwiches until our stomachs ache. I've seen buskers play uilleann pipes for euros. They'll serenade us as we dance across dangerous cobblestone. In Dublin, there will be celebration. The post office will be lit in somber colors, but there might be a parade. We'll ignore the Guinness Factory for another drink at the Old Brazen Head. When it's dark, I'll sneak you into Stephen's Green or Merrion Square, climbing whatever walls or barricades are in our way. And when sunrise touches our lips, I'll kiss you with dew clinging to my teeth. I'll be sweet and warm and cold and wet all at the same time. And we will settle in our damp clothes against the grass, until the rain finally begins to fall, and we are lost in our own personal lagoon."
This week's prompt was provided by Roger Collins.
Comments
Post a Comment