A man closed eyes around the sound that sung
Downstairs to an untidy living room;
And knew just then, with his heartstrings unstrung,
That one day too soon he would need to exhume
This memory. And one single-note thread,
Sung by grief and joy, would surface this song:
The chattering roar of going to bed;
Two boys, giddy with sleep, playing strong.

He pre-sensed the feeling — for all left behind,
For what lay beside him, and what won’t be
Anymore — and in that moment was kind
Not to forget to tune his ears to see
The now he knew that he could never lose
If to listen now with love he would choose.