Erin (11th Hour)

There’s fire ablaze on top of her head

Her curls lay dormant around her cheeks

Intertwine, deep…rooted las the willow tree

The harsh cold winds blow through her flames

Revealing her soft spotted face

The emeralds in her eyes

Shine a light through the mist and fog

Leading ships upon the safety of her shores…back home

Her soft ballads and lilting calls for still waters

Back home…in the arms of those we love dearly

In the crooks of her bracing seas

Back home is where we all long to be

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