Blackberry Towers.

I remember the cornfield from when I was young

The place that us kids would go to have fun.

Daffodils breaking through the warming earth,

As the promise of spring filled the air with mirth.

We played kerby, footy, bulldog and chase,

Climbed trees in the hope of reaching space.

Our knees were bloodied, elbows bruised,

We wore hand me down clothes and real leather shoes.

Daisy chain ropes that reached to the skies,

dandelion clocks, oh how time flies!

Purple fingers, betraying lips,

Blackberry pies with apple bits.

Bonfire night, the woolies came out.

In before dark! The mothers did shout.

Sparklers, fireworks, penny for the guy.

Halloween sweeties in endless supply.

Snowmen so big we stood in awe. Then

Took turns aiming for the highest score.

One in each garden some on the path,

A pile of wet socks, gloves, hats and scarves.

I remember the cornfield swaying in the breeze

Before they laid brick, took away the trees

Everything got busy, the air grew stale.

And nobody noticed when the kids grew pale.

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