Family
My Father at the head of the table, carving the meat,
My Mother brings the vegetables, wiping her brow from the heat.
Sunday Roast Dinner, the memories so clear,
A family together, every Sunday of the year.
All week I'd been looking forward to our Sunday together,
Brothers and Sisters turn up, no matter the weather.
Now I pass on this gift to my own family,
That they enjoy the ritual that's so important to me.
A time for conversation, to be counselled and grilled,
The laughter and humour where good banter is filled.
Dad's kind face, is crimson with mirth,
Tapping his belly and complaining of the girth.
Mother so interested in how we're getting on,
Teasing amongst the children, requests for a song.
The smell of the roasted bird fills up the room,
Anticipation of Mother's crumble, custard and spoon.
Family all together is so important to me,
Sitting round the table with such happy memories.
The wine it does flow and work forgotten for a day,
May the tradition continue, the love of a family stay.
Copyright © Eamonn Hayes | Year Posted 2011
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