Our Time

Garage roofs, were made for jumps,
when Mr Knievel did his own stunts.
Old shed doors were skateboard ramps.
and games were played under lamps.
 
Garden fences were made to hop,
Chinn and Chapman were kings of pop.
Chippers, Choppers, Tomahawks and Racers,
all ridden by kids with Mickey Mouse braces.
 
Stories of ghosts and shadows mistook,
terrified in tents, dark nights down the brook.
Den’s dug out, covered with a car bonnet,
shot at by an idiot with a two, two bullet.
 
Corner shops, sold huge elastic bands,
that soon became weapons in the wrong hands.
Trees stripped of berries and nest stripped of eggs,
missiles thrown conkering, watch out mind your heads.
 
White lines on grass, three pots and in,
play in the nets before the match begins.
Wet leather football, your skull it could crush,
seaside specials, popped on a rose bush.
 
When air riffles did the job of a cat,
night walks with torches, thud, a dead rat.
Time trials, on our own assault courses,
jumping obstacles as if we were horses.
 
Jewelweed pops open with the lightest of touch,
walk along pipes, jeans covered in slutch.
Abseil from windows, ropes tied to beds,
one word to parents and you are dead.
 
Saturday wrestling in homemade ring,
fingers bent back in a special move thing.
Two fingers poised for the Monster Mash,
stop before the talking bit or grave yard bash.
 
Sunday night the one hot bath of the week,
wrapped up tight in a flannelette sheet.
Summers lazed on, ever so slow,
and we did our best to try not to grow.
 
Exploring the day, never seeming to tire,
running through fields then setting them on fire.
When time, was our time.