Where stood the
golden wheat so still
The azure sky upon
the brow
From where we fed the
old brown cow
And I recall the
summery show
Of point-black
swallows to and fro
Shimmering fields
beneath their wings
Open-beaked for bug-eyed
things
A winding road, of
gravel gray
And the dappled light
of a sunny day
The appled trees of
greenery swayed
Like the silver gate
on which we played
And the wrinkled
stream of translucent blue
Reflecting light as
it ran through
The lavender meadow
that smelt so sweet
When crushing flowers
as a perfumed treat
We sat bent-kneed on
the old stone wall
With one hand down
so’s not to fall
The other clutching
our beating stick
Whittled well to
heartily fell
The nettled path of
the wooded glade
Where toadstools grew
in dampened shade
Where witches brewed
and demons laid
Where we learnt to be
afraid
But nothing like the
outside world
Where the harshness
of the human sphere
Plies your soul with
daily fear
But give way now, to
the gentler breeze
Give way to the buzz
of childhood bees
Around the corner,
please be there
My memory’s weak, but
not my prayer
So please be standing, still there aloof
My little white house with the bright red roof
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