A Childhood Summer
I remember those long hot Summer's, as if they were yesterday,
When the sun shone down on our street, the place I loved to play.
For many a window glistened, cleaned well to a sparkling shine,
Where starched white shirts blew gaily, on many a washing line.
I remember the sounds of the trains at night, as they passed on the track below,
Way down, the steep embankment, where many wild ferns would grow.
And many a door was left ajar, a life filled with Honesty and Trust,
When everyone toiled and struggled, to bring home a well earned crust.
I remember the old wheels turning, at the colliery across the way,
And I still see the old Miners faces, as they finished their shift for the day.
Their eyes still black from the coal dust, they'd make their way home from the pit,
Eager to rest their weary legs, but still full of banter and wit!
I remember the loveable character, who lived just across the street,
He'd sit outside his window, and shout from his favourite seat.
With his belly full of beer, he'd be heard on a Saturday night,
Then wake the whole street with a song and a dance! He looked such a comical sight!
I walked the lovely hillside, so often with my Dad,
And so enjoyed the tales he told, of when he was a lad.
These were the best years of our lives, in a very special way,
I'll never forget those Summer's, they seem like yesterday.
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Henry David Thoreau
(12 July 1817 – 6 May 1862)
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