THE MISTS OF MAAM

The valley seems
To breathe as one
Its falling mist
Heartbeats begun
To gently rise
Inhale exhale
An Irish air
A tender veil.

The Devils Mother
A watching peak
Its rising heights
Lull one to sleep
Connemara legend
Swirls within
Each word of lore
Each storys brim.

Galway your beauty
Maamturk range
Mountains serenity
Will never change
A thousand lovers
Who crossed the bridge
Still hold hands
In the Maams mist.