An Agendaless Age
Often I drift back to my days of youth
to where life did begin; a rural treat,
those sharp brisk mornings a moorland uncouth
a naïve nakedness a one-way street,
simple things like the sun rise snow and sleet.
No timetables no worries to go wrong
tuneful mum dusting the blues in a song,
where fences were constructed to lean on
over which chat neighbours when ties were strong,
A relief thinking of those days long gone.
2021
Entered Mark Toney's
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile contest 15
30/9/2022
Copyright © Harry Horsman | Year Posted 2021
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