Sidney Beck Poet Verse

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.


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Nette Onclaud March 3, 2011 at 2:58 PM funny, warm and street smart with a keen insight for details... your oiece creates a differnt dimensionsion of life's etraordinary ordinary-ness, syd... email?? good luck! :) hugggs, nete

Carolyn Devonshire February 20, 2011 at 10:32 AM It is such a delightful memory, Syd. I used to pick dandelions and other wildflowers for my mother and she always treasured them, just because they were gifts from my heart. Lovely poem, dear. Love, Carolyn