At the bottom of Church Lane
Just behind the graveyard wall
A wide verge of grass where
We’d all gather and sprawl,
The village group of
Just teenaged friends
In those summer days that
It seemed would never end..
Back of Church a special place
Where we’d all to sit and laze,
Where In memory it never rained,
Just long hot summer days
Flirting, bragging, chatting
Life an adolescent whirl
Experiencing that progression
Not quite still boy and girl.
Maybe listening to our records,
Power from the porch light
By Illicit cable strung through
Bushes to keep it out of sight.
An innocent crime in those days,
A quieter world so many years ago
When life seemed much simpler.
Certainly more calm and slow.
Until those long summer days
That didn’t seem to move on
All of a sudden had passed and
The holiday was over and gone
Back of Church is still there
Though it seems smaller
Churchyard wall not so high
Or It’s maybe me that’s taller.
Not a gathering place anymore
So much more for teens to do
In their changing online world,
A place that’s excitingly new.
Once gardens now hold houses
Layered over with concrete
And there are new road signs
On the still unlit night street.
The village seems a different place
Much quieter than it used to be
I no longer belong there I feel
And It no longer remembers me
But, for near a thousand years.
The old Church has overlooked all
Guarding its field of sunken graves
Enclosed behind its hedge and wall.
