The Holidays

My suitcase is ready,
I’m off to the sea,
I’ve packed all the treasures
I’m taking with me.

I’ve put in my spade
And inflatable ring,
My swimsuit and penknife,
Fishhooks and some string.

I’ve packed all my soldiers,
They won’t want to stay,
I’m taking my Teddy
And Panda to play.

Mum says it’s too early,
I mustn’t forget
That before we leave home
There are weeks to go yet.

It’s true – time goes slowly
Especially for me
With my suitcase all ready
To go to the sea.

For Helier, who had his suitcase packed at least two months early! Summer 1977

A Magic on the House

There’s a magic on the house
When the babies are asleep,
When they’re tightly bundled up
In the depths of downy deep,
When through all the hours of night
From the bedroom door ajar
Comes their steady sound of breathing,
Like a murmuring from afar
Of the sea within a shell
From some distant coral bar.

Evensong

At night when lights within the house turned high
Shine out in answer to the starlit sky,
I go outside to close the shutters tight
Against the rigours of the winter’s night.
I lift each hook and push the shutter to,
Catching a gentle vision as I do,
Behind the panes, of faces that I love,
My whole world’s gift and sacred treasure trove,
Each unaware within his frame of light
Of causing me, the watcher, such delight.
Then am I moved profoundly as I see
How blessed fortune has so favoured me.

(finished in Erasmus Hospital, Brussels 8.2.89)