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Days Past

From the annals of my past,
Some old memories that last:
Sitting on my father's knee
As he read from Arthur Mee,*
Eating starch from a box
(Dissolved, used to starch our frocks),
Sibling quarrels, which I lost
(Couldn't win at any cost),
Helping to wring out the clothes
(Copper long defunct, lord knows),
Going down to fetch the cows
From the paddock where they browsed:
With milk and cream separated,
As butter-maker I operated,
Correspondence lessons with Mum,
When the latest batch had come
In the big canvas bag of mail,
Three times a week by rail,
And, of course, the flood water,
Soon after the youngest daughter,
While we were at the wool shed,
News came that Grandma was dead.

*Arthur Mee Encyclopedia.

Copyright © Beth Evans