| Subject: |
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Memories |
| Name: |
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jb |
| Date Posted: |
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Aug 6, 06 - 1:37 PM |
| IP Address: |
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86.13.43.238 |
| Message: |
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Cowdall Rd Braunstone
Memories
O youth those tender years have gone,
I’m 70 now, it seems so long.
Since kids played hop scotch in the street,
And ran to Mr’s Moore’s for sweets.
When building dens was all the rage,
And bonfires set the green ablaze,
Winter warmers whirl and crash,
Hurled by kids who’d watch them smash.
In gardens street or anywhere,
Not a thought and nary a care,
Then Glad Ashley’s strident voice.
“Sorry Glad it’s Hobson’s choice”
Winters cold begins to clear,
I feel the warmth of summers cheer,
Marlene Bishop sets her stall,
Selling things to one and all.
Its party time, what a treat!
Table stretching down the street,
Hitlers lost that awful war,
I wonder what he started for?
Some days the street was quiet and bare,
I guess the’ve gone the summer fair,
Brauny spinney I then would roam,
Birds nesting for an hour alone.
Just a glimpse of days gone by,
When skylarks twittered in the sky,
Those youthful days I sadly miss,
Occasionally when I reminisce.
j. bishop 06. |
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