When I was young with soul slate-clean
Thinking myself immortal
With long hard icy winters
Freezing landscapes lasting months
Snowmen carrot nosed, eyes of coal
Children tobogganing laughing with delight
Racing downhill on upturned milk crates.
Long bright adventurous summers
That never seemed to end.
Building tree camps in woods
Playing cowboys and Indians
Thinking girls were silly
Not liking football, frogs and mice
And wanting to play kiss chase with boys.
Weekly pocket money of sixpence
Given by father for Saturday morning cinema
Sitting eating ice lollies in crowded stalls
Cheering Hop-a-long Cassidy and Roy Rogers
Booing the black-hatted cowboy villains
Sweets rationed, gobstoppers, fizzy saucers
Bull eyes, sticky toffee, chocolate bars.
Living in a street with no doors locked
Friendly neighbours ready to help
Bank holiday day trips to seaside Brighton
Paddling in a warm sea, building sand castles
Eating fish and chips from newspapers
Chewing sticks of pink peppermint rock
Brighton's name all the way through.
Cinema with family on Wednesday night
Hot meat pie each on way home
Carried high on my father's shoulders
Over the field at back of our house.
My mother's kisses and hugs
Stories read by my father at bedtime
These were precious things when I was young.
Amazing piece of work...bringing back many beautiful memories with lovely brilliant poetic style...10+++
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Moving poem, . Colin Ian! I do understand your feelings. Keep on writing!