Two Kids Remembering
TWO KIDS REMEMBERING
There we were
Next to the railtracks in the middle of the industrial heartland of 1950s Tyneside
Martin and me
Summer’s day and no money and no place to go except the drab streets and projects
Just exploring carelessly
Among the factories, spoil heaps, rusty tracks, piles of old axles, oily ditchwater
And enjoying youth
All day we strolled, climbed, jumped, ignored the “no entry” signs, threw stones, felt hot
Until we wearied
And decided to go home with a big bunch of wild blooms for mum bcause we’d be late
And picked flowers
Marguerites from the oil-soaked patches with rusted steel-ingot enriching the soil
Dandelion, daisy, cornflower
From the sand-spoil heaps lining the railtracks for miles, dumped as future ship-ballast
Campion and forget-me-not
Hidden tiny among the broken crates half-emptied of reject rubber tyres
And with armfuls
We trudged our way back through the sterile concrete and tangled barbed-wire fences
We got home
And mum was waiting with dinner, and we washed and ate, and she loved the flowers
And that night
We all talked about our explorations, and the flower collection, and we were so tired
We slept soundly. . . . . . .
Mum kept the blooms in a bucket - or was it a basket? Kids don’t remember everything.
Memory is selective.
.............................................................................
Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2011
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