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 the gypsy poet

marble days


i played marbles as a kid
upon the green where we kids lived
we played those circles games and more
just over from the village hall

the grass was green and the daisies grew
we rolled that glass with gusto too
with alleys and shiny spheres of glass
we thought the day would always last

our friends and family all came to play
no PC world in those old days
our fun and laughter was roustabout
as we rolled those marbles in and out

the sounds of clinking hit the air
as we won with richness joy or lost in pure despair
with our ice cream faces and our red cheeks glow
we rolled those marbles and let them go

the little green it still is there
close by the railway line and local fair
the Carey woods and warehams leas
where as small kids we scuffed our knees

gone are those days of revelry's
when marbles kept us from our teas
with alley bags and clinking glass
we rolled those marbles slow and fast

our aim was true and skilled with ease
as we sat their on our knees
with scores and winning ways to share
we took our time and said our prayers

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