Good Old Days
I remember the smell of the polish
The hissing of steam from the pots
The songs on the radio playing
And my nose dripping with snot
Mum would grab me and wipe it
With a dexterity practised before
Leaving my nose like a beacon
Me screeching as I went out the door
My older sisters were singing
As they , the house chores fulfilled
The sun cut a beam through the window
And there on the Lino it spilled
Dust particles in its light they floated
Not seen when its power was gone
Yet they danced to the radio music
As the sun through the window it shone
These days are now but a memory
But oh what a treasure they are
Nothing I have can replace them
Neither jewel nor silver nor car
Copyright © Robert Andrew Lyle | Year Posted 2014
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