It was hotter than that summer in the seventies

when the ladybirds swarmed the washing  

and the sun was blinding white

and our mouths were alive with lemonade lollies

and the council stopped the water fights

I’d been telling them all about this how it was a

long time before they were born

but it was too warm for bedtime and they were both starting to yawn

so we started chasing each other

round the kitchen to I Fought The Law

them two with plastic swords

me with my invisible guitar

round and round the room we ran then

we stopped, breathless, and they said:

can you feel our hearts Dad?

If it stops does it mean that you’re dead?

I put fingers to each bony ribcage

and there they were, five and eight years old

tiny thump thump thump thump thumps

too late for biscuits too early for bed

can you feel mine? I said,

hands planted flat on my chest

I can’t feel it, they said

well, can you hear it I said

hand cupped behind ears, grinning, taking

the mick

no, I said, put your head on

here,

to the part that makes us tick

foreheads propped against my gut

like in prayer at the Wailing Wall

no, I said,

I mean, like you do with a sea-shell when you hear the mermaids call.

Two heads twist and listen

four eyes widen below

can you hear it now, I say?

yeah! he said

It’s really loud, she said

and proper fast!

That’s good I said

cos a heart’s supposed to last.