His face had a blackberry shine
plucked from the thicket...
purple fingers and scuffed knees
How a boy should be....
Clothes smelling of fresh air
not living rooms and fags.
Trees climbed and hideouts
to find, the day filled with
adventure and the promise
of the unknown. Exploration,
unexpected finds, an old boot,
a tin can.....who is the old man
in no.42? Knock on the door...
and run......roll down the hill
as fast as you can.....then dig a
hole and hide sweets....In the
distance his name is called,
time for home.....Dinner!!
and a bath to wash off the
mud ....but not the memories.
They will always stay.
