Old friends, sat on their park bench like book ends.
That song echoed in my head this afternoon as I stumbled upon two old men sitting on a park bench, silently watching the ducks dabble on the small pond in front of them. They were too precious to ignore, so I pulled out my camera and asked if I could took their photo. "You're simply too handsome to ignore," I said, hoping to charm them into posing for one quick shot.
Within minutes, one of the men was telling me that Canada was the first country to open its borders to victims of the great Irish famine. He listed off names of ships and years and numbers of survivors. And then he mentioned that he was a writer, of poetry to be precise. Seven books he had published. I smiled and sat beside them on the bench for a minute. And then, out of nowhere, he began to recite his poetry. Four sweet love poems flowed from him as if he had only written them yesterday; still heavy with meaning and emotion. It was beautiful.
The wind picked up and the cherry blossoms fell to the path that lay at our feet. I thanked him for the poems, wished them a pleasant afternoon and meandered back through the park towards home. There's something magical about Ireland and I'm so deeply grateful we've come to experience it.
That was a perfect experience!!
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