Sixteen years

It’s sixteen years, my wife declares,
To my most disbelieving stares,
Since we were here in Galway last.
Sixteen speeding years have passed
Since we pushed through those bustling streets
And bought the children sticky sweets
To bribe them into keeping going
With their pace forever slowing.
Sixteen years since sudden rain
Drenched four of us with deep disdain
And forced us in a bland café,
Where we were mugged the tourist way.
And later in the Skeffy Arms,
The Coke glass slipped from sweaty palms
And stained the dress so newly bought,
Which drew from me a sharp retort.
And then we had a blazing row
(Still unsurpassed from then till now)
In which the others on the stage
Gazed awestruck at our righteous rage.
And now we’re in the present tense.
It’s sixteen years since those events.
Oh tribal city of maroon,
Why did we come back so soon?