As I stirred in my morning bed,
Prepared to meet the day,
I heard faint voices in my head
From fifty years away.


My father, in the bathroom,
Clearing a lusty throat.
Singing in fine Welsh tenor
And losing not a note.


My mother, in the kitchen;
Her sounds are everywhere.
Her lovely clear soprano
Embellishing an air.


The shouting of my life-long friends,
The sounds of skipping feet.
Those happy games that never end,
The noises of our street.


I close my eyes and contemplate
A childhood filled with joy.
Sweet memories to meditate,
On when I was a boy.


And should my children, growing old,
Remember just the same.
Then even though I’m lying cold,
I’ll know I’ve won the game.