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. .............................................................................