50 years and more have passed since that day,
When beside my bike on the beaten track I lay.
Laying in heather, purple up to my chin,
Thinking of life and what the future may bring.
Looking up into the clear blue sky,
Contemplating the world; what and why.
Thinking of life and what the future might bring,
As Skylarks flung themselves upwards to sing.
My childhood had been a curious one,
Torn by war, I innocently thought fun.
Sneak airborne raiders, run helter skelter,
Many nights spend in an air raid shelter.
Schooling really was but a total farce,
Kids thirty and more to each class.
Taught by teachers who couldn't care less,
Education that got nowhere, a total mess.
Never taught almost any of the skills,
Often under desks in air raid drills.
Absent fathers off fighting the war.
Shortages, always wanting more.
Life as a child, without any toys,
Games in the street with girls and boys.
Mothers working themselves to a frazzle,
Their clothes but rags; no razzle dazzle.
But we thought life was very sweet, enjoyed by us all,
As we didn't know different. We just had a ball.
Football, marbles, o'grady sav's tip it and run,
Those were our games. We just had fun.
No graffiti, no muggings, no locking of doors.
Pocket money given for doing my chores,
What a terrible life, now I'm often told -
Smile at the memory. I am getting quite old!
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