When the voices of children are heard on the green/ And laughing is heard on the hill/ My heart is at rest within my breast/ And everything else is still. William Blake ,

I

I used to carry three of the five up to bed
they’d say ‘Daddy, daddy, please stay’
but I would go away and work.

Suddenly, we were semi-detached
they’d flown the nest, gone away,
and what I wouldn’t give
for one more day with them
when they were little and I was young.

Telling them stories, singing songs,
getting along.

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