Explore Poems GO!

Follows

Rating: 5.0

That dusty dilly-dally over Back Lane, Barn Lane and past McGreevy's blackened house, sighing in the creaking sunlight.

Your queenie allowed you three goes to my one. You wanted four; afraid to lose. We gave way once or twice to timid traffic; blunt, black motors, steered by earnest men, scanning the liquid road to nowhere.

The weight of homework and your Dad's temper lent your game a foolhardiness for which you weren't suited. You cried when I asked why your Mum didn't work any more. You knew so much - not enough. Tears came and neither of us understood.

I owned your queenie by the time we reached the pump but was told to give it back. Whatever ailed your Mum meant you weren't allowed to lose.

I kicked the flaking whitewash on the backyard wall, and grew a little older.

READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
COMMENTS OF THE POEM

Delivering Poems Around The World

Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...

8/1/2021 6:35:02 AM # 1.0.0.666