Treasure Island

Phil Soar

(28.06.1952)

Childhood days


Whilst looking through a box of toys
Of things we had when we were boys
I came across a boxing glove
Just one, from a time we sought some love
Instead our dad would punch us raw
The other one he kept in a drawer
Along with a leather strap he bought
The fifties! , now there's food for thought

As a parent, dad was short of tact
Less love and more vengeful impact
The odd cuddle in amongst the strain
Of smacks and more of guilt and pain
And yet, you know, we had no shame
We thought it was a family game
To see who could get beaten most
Before dad had his evening toast

He sat with red cheeks by the fire
With glass in hand, his one desire
Whilst mother just got on with chores
Building bridges, closing doors
Until one day she had enough
And took us out, dragged by the cuff
Away from all the pain and strife
To start afresh, a whole new life

Never looking back, she fled
The angry man with cheeks of red
She took us to the fields of gold
Where good and loving inter-fold
She gave us a chance to re-address
Our childhood and our happiness
A mother's love, and none too late
A rescue, from a beer stained fate.

Submitted: Monday, August 25, 2014

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Topic(s): family

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