Ringsend Bridge

You are the fourth in line, heir apparent

To a great task, wrought with danger.

Your father, and your father’s father,

Fell like the one who came before,

Awash in a great deluge.

Your history, your guardianship,

Is written in the River Doddler.

Time and tide shall pass.

And your stones erode,

Crumble,

Die.

How many cliches have been written about you over the years?

Would one more really hurt?

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