Sunlight shines in to the big dormer window of the grand house, awaken. There is a sheet of black glass covering the old fireplace, see the reflection of the glowing orb over Dublin bay.
The sun is out on the last day in Ireland, the last few hours of holiday.
And the bed is warm and comfortable.
The son is up, he is at his computer.
The brother comes in, a call to breakfast.
And later, walking in the grounds of the old manor, enjoy the sunlight, the warmth and comfort, the daffodils in flower, the tree's leaves sprouting green.
The last day of the holidays.
Spring is late, really late, this year
The sun is out on the last day in Ireland, the last few hours of holiday.
And the bed is warm and comfortable.
The son is up, he is at his computer.
The brother comes in, a call to breakfast.
And later, walking in the grounds of the old manor, enjoy the sunlight, the warmth and comfort, the daffodils in flower, the tree's leaves sprouting green.
The last day of the holidays.
Spring is late, really late, this year
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