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Childhood Memories
By Jarlath
Bancroft
Memories come back as I
walk down the lane
Past the cottage where I
was born
It’s now just a ruin
without windows or roof
With the path to the
door so well worn
This cottage not lived
in for many a year
With no sign of the love
that was there
Just left as a dark and
silent old place
In desperate need of
some care
No sign of the well at
the end of the lane
Where my father would go
every morning
To carry our water back
home to the house
If it hadn’t dried up
without warning
That hearth for the fire
now empty and cold
Which my mother would
make up daily
With the wind whistling
down that old chimney
How quickly that
moment’s a memory
I wish you could see
things through my eyes
now
As I look at this ruin
of today
And hear those long lost
magical sounds
Of that child long ago
at play |
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