A conversation reminded me of one of the joys of my childhood, our Sunday Afternoon walk down country lanes, and the watering stop at the halfway mark.
So I wrote a sort of old fashioned poem about our lovely Sunday walks.

Days of Childhood

Sunday afternoon - we'd walk
Through leafy lanes together,
Some hours to spend, and talk,
Enjoying the good weather.

With Mum, and Dad, what pleasure
We found in childhood days,
To spend our time of leisure
In walking the country ways.

We walked for miles, on lonely
Country roads and lanes.
I'm thinking now, if only
I could live those times again.

We'd name the trees and flowers,
And hear the busy noise
Of insects' wings, those hours
Were filled with simple joys.

And then tired out from walking,
The 'Black Boy' pub in view,
Our throats all dry from talking,
We'd take a drink, or two.

Lemonade we children took,
Smiths Crisps we had to eat,
So then, of course, we had to look
For the blue salt twist so neat.

The grownups pushed the boat right out
- which made us little ones titter-
'Cos mum had a Shandy or Milk Stout,
while Dad's was a Mild and Bitter.

And so it grew dark, time for home,
And the closer we got, we'd hurry,
Mum and Dad just a little bit merry
And us children as happy as Larry.

Poetry by Marie Cadavieco The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 95 times
Written on 2023-09-18 at 15:35

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A lovely reminiscing of your childhood, precious times. I remember the blue salt twist, those were the days!

jim The PoetBay support member heart!
I love this glimpse of an English (?) childhood. Naturally, it brought images and memories of my American childhood, very different images and memories to be sure, but precious nonetheless.

Thank you!


P.S. It's so bloody refreshing to read rhymed stanzas.