Kathleen Sullivan is an intensive care registered nurse who writes to inspire and heal. Mother of two, grandmother of three, she has had poetry & prose, articles, and short stories published online and in print format in professional journals, church magazines, and anthologies in the UK and USA. Born and raised in a predominantly Irish town in West Central Scotland, she now lives on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico, in the seaside town of Indian Rocks Beach, Florida. There is always laughter in her home courtesy of the many apps available for video calls with her family members, who are dotted around the world.
Sweep me up into the sky In a cotton storm cloud let me fly Back to where my life began Back to an enchanted land By purple mountain silver stream Lay me down where I can dream Let the yellow light shine up A Celtic sun, a Buttercup In meadow sweet with blankets green Let me be there in between Sweep me up I thee implore And I will never wander more Take me back to where I'm from Erase in me who I've become In cotton storm clouds let me fly Bold trade winds please don't blow on by
Had I caught one wisp of wisdom as it fell from the angel's wing I may have hesitated instead of rushing in I may have heard her whisper a secret worn and old Beware of where you venture in the chase of fools gold Had I heard one fearful footstep at the flutter of her wing I may have reconsidered all the sorrow it would bring Had I caught one salten teardrop as my ocean hit the sand I may have tried to turn the tide before my chase began I'd be home right now in Ireland and finally understand That my fortune's where I left it in the clasp of my father's hand
'Twas a Tuesday evening as I recall There were brothers and sisters and cousins and all With sorrow and sadness mounting inside Throughout the proceedings ole Mick would reside There were days from his childhood and idle days spent There were tales from the war years where soldiers were sent This company assembled to pay him respect However, with humor was how they'd reflect When Father McGilvery offered a tale On the serious matter of whiskey and ale Accomplices bellowed a story or two Laughter erupted, joy blossomed anew As fiddles came roaring the Porter flowed thick Wild hearts again soaring on account of ole Mick Amongst all of my memories I'll never forsake The fun and the jiggin' at Hanagan's wake