Playtime

Climbing, camping, football cricket, the common saw to that,
With two jumpers as the goalposts and a fence post for a bat,
Jump the brook, or ‘stonk’ it, that was our other choice,
Plus singing round a campfire, with an unmelodious voice.

Playing in the sandholes, sliding on a tin,
Climbing up the rock face and skinning all our skin,
Crawling in the caves there, with wonder in our eyes,
Every day was ‘make believe, full of magic and surprise.

‘Conkers’, ‘Hopscotch’, ‘Whip and top’, each season had a game,
‘Marbles’, ‘Tig’ and ‘hide and seek’,  never one the same,
‘Kick the can’ and ‘shine the light’, ones we liked the best,
Never time for slacking, never time to rest.

All these things are records, imprinted in your mind,
Take a minute to recall them, your childhood there you’ll find,
Even though our times seemed hard and our life had just begun,
Oh! – didn’t we enjoy it, – didn’t we have fun!

Mick
(Copyright Michael Westwood 2013)