My Long Ago Poem by Rod Morris

Back in days from memory, far back still in my time,
The poetry I liked most was almost bound to rhyme.
Painting pictures with a pen seemed the thing to do.
Ideas from local folk and those featured in who’s who.

Families picnicked in parks, at lakeside or the beach.
Little spent on homespun fun well within their reach.
Beat up bat tennis ball, made cricket, rounders fun.
Cooling Qtol too rub on the burn from red-hot sun.

Hide-and-seek, dam up a creek, then finally let it go,
Search rock-pools, find a crab, lookout for your toe.
Popping seaweed pods in some unsuspecting face,
Then run like mad or be had, hope you win the race.

Cousins by the dozen; the big ones took the names.
Little kids, picked last when chosen for team games.
Energy without end non-stop happy-go-lucky bunch.
Ensured no one was last when call went out for lunch.

Siesta after lunchtime munch, beneath a shady tree,
Listening to sweet lullaby as sands caressed by sea.
Once more put the billy on, fired by bone-dry wood,
Sausage rolls, Eccles cakes homemade; tasting good.

Still time for more play, a final surge of boundless joys,
Pack the gear, heading home, such happy girls and boys.
Tired-eyed kids lay dream-locked reclining on back seat,
Perhaps they're visualising nextime their families meet.