tagNon-Erotic PoetryThe Fields of my Childhood

The Fields of my Childhood


I remember the fields of my childhood,
When the sun shone down everyday.
The roads were mostly quiet
Where we children used to play.
The orchard trees for climbing
For scrumping apples as well,
The barn where the cat had her kittens,
The nettles in which I fell!
Dad put up a post for the linen line,
Which rooted then grew into a tree,
Willow twigs strong and whip like
Perfect for beating me.
Sunday school, where we learnt that
Jesus loved and cared for us all,
Harvest time great songs for singing,
With supper at the Great Hall.
Christmas trees dropping their needles,
Frost on the inside of glass.
Snow falling in time for Santa,
Deep for reindeer to pass.
My birthday two months later
Why was it always a doll?
I wanted a tractor or train set
Not taking a pram for a stroll!
We dressed the cat in a bonnet
And put her in there instead,
Her claws made terrible scratches
Then we were sent to bed.
Not for us heated blankets
Those rooms were as cold as ice,
One sister let the pets out
And we were invaded by mice!
We scraped our way through childhood
It's a wonder we survived,
But no-one ever told us
We were what is now called deprived

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