Do you remember when we tried to work out
how old you were by counting the years?
They refused to add up to
the number you had in your head.

The one in the hospital when you asked for clothing
because you had none, the ones you came in destroyed;
you owned nothing, not the thin striped gown your back.
Your father helped you get into your new set of clothes.

The one when we had the funeral, and you didn’t show up
because you didn’t know yet that she had died.

The one when we went to the Gower,
and the sand was golden,
and the sea was blue, the waves topped with
whipped white birthday cake frosting.

The sun is shining today.
I hope you’re happy.