I found this postcard hanging behind the bar at Declan’s Tavern. Declan was from the old country, or so they said; he liked to claim that every stone in the place had been part of his grandad’s back in Dublin. Dont know if that was true or not but his accent was hold enough to fool a Seattle mick like myself.

Declan died last week, and we gave him a proper Irish wake. Spotted this picture & it reminded me of meeting a pretty lady at a lonely corner bus stop on a cold night, so very far away from here.

And about how much I still miss you.

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