April 21st I’m looking out the window
I cannot remember my voice breaking,
Of course I cannot.
It would have been nearly 60 years ago.
There is a song that I remember though
That illustrates in sound
The voice that I then found.
We had a stereogram.
A furniture piece of Sixties style
That sat by the door to the hall for a while.
Mum had some records, singles and LP’s.
She had Pat Boone, Jim Reeves,
South Pacific and Blue Hawaii.. and
The Big Ben Banjo Band.
(That was Pop’s)
And Cliff Richard.
I liked him.
And we would often listen to music.
Summer Holiday; the Young Ones; It’ll be me.
They were, presumably
The sounds of my 10/11 year old days.
I would sing along.
And curl my upper lip in smile, the Cliff Richard way
That was his trademark in his stardom hey day.
I knew the words
I knew the tune.
But I did not have the look…
Not at 11/12.
I fancied myself as a singer too.
But, in time
There was one single
That I really liked
I surprised myself that I could sing just right
The high notes and the low ones too:
“I’m looking out the window
I’m waiting at the door
To see if you’ll be coming by
The way you did before
The way you did before”
I had an agile imagination even then
That as I became a teen
I would get heard and be seen
By a girl, who would swoon…
At my curling lip and my croon.
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