Living on a Song

Walking into my kitchen
weighed down with shopping,
the radio was rocking out Supertramp,

sun streaming in
I dropped my bags
and sang along

feet tapping

hands in the air

as I recalled

when “Give a Little Bit”
was a new soundtrack,
it was my song
and I was just

a young thing.

I recalled a skinny blonde
facile and free,
rushing across Oliver Plunkett Street
on a warm summer’s evening,

in the door of the Teach Beag

laughter, music and craic
in the far corner,
the Cailíní gearing up
for a night on the town,
opportunity knocking
the future but a hum

living on a song.