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Childhood


Just a little wooden hut
Where for hours it seemed,
Laid on its corrugated roof,
I read, and dreamed my dreams.
It was for me
My special place
As though suspended
In time and space.
Over the blacksmith scrap heap,
Alongside the churchyard fence,
I could climb quietly up into
My little world of pretence.

A solitary child,
Mainly by choice,
I lay there secretly
Not making any noise.
I could listen to the sounds
Of any usual day
Feel secure as I pretended
 I was alone and far away.
For long special hours
Nobody knew where I'd been
And then I got careless,
Made a noise, and was seen.

After that discovery
It was never quite the same
And I soon stopped playing
My special little game.
A lesson we all learn
As we  all have to move on
But we keep the memories
Of the childhood that's gone.
More than seventy years later
I'm pleased to say
In spite of a changing world
My little hut still stands today







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