The Croft Poem by ANDREW BLAKEMORE

The pathway leads across the croft
Towards the chesnut trees,
Been standing there for many years
So mighty and so strong,
St. Mary's bells are ringing and
They echo through the air,
While children play so joyfully
Upon the slides and swings.

The shadows cool beneath the trees
That shade October's sun,
As now the field is scattered with
The husks and fallen nuts,
And dwelling there upon the ground
Amongst the twigs and leaves,
And where the grass is thin and sparse
And sunlight rarely shines.

A young boy fills his pockets and
He carries all he can,
But still they keep on falling from
His small and dirty hands,
As two old ladies seated on
A worn and wooden bench,
Now talk of all those happy times
So many years ago.