I know, you’re far too young,
Not me, I know the date, the time
When Elvis left the building.
I can’t forget.
I sat, wordless, in the evening sun
Trying to imagine how my life
Could carry on.
I held my tears
And I listened to my mum
She knew about Elvis,
But she didn’t care
Because my dad had died that morning
And that meant more than Rock and Roll.
Bridget is a children's author and post graduate researcher at the University of Birmingham.