I was on the point of speaking the pleasure of your name

It is your impulse I remember,
the movement that made you your own,
the way you laughed when you were told
some daily but delightful thing,
and the way you could not be fooled.

When I saw that man who recalled you
I put out my hand to keep him
as if his Spanish Irish face
must lighten in recognition,
and I was on the point of speaking
the pleasure of your name.

[Helen Dunmore {1952-2017} 'Spanish Irish', from Glad of These Times]