Did it bring you comfort this china,
the little cup worn at the rim and
translucent as the shell of an egg,
reminding you of Coolock days,
the warm liquid soothing and refreshing?
Did you read the leaves all those years ago
and know your life would end
here in quite another place?
Of life filled
Of call given
Of encouragement and conviviality,
bonds of kinship
and gesture of gracious hospitality.
Taking the cup of your life,
the cup of your life.
Drinking the sweet-bitter draught that was yours.