Image for the poem The Old Stone Wall

The Old Stone Wall

Strange how a stone wall grows to great value    
this sight which lacks meaning in passing eyes,    
but I played my childhood games in this view    
saw me chase, chased, and heard my shrieking cries.    
My mother's grandfather played here with mates    
as they bounced bamboo hoops or balls to school,    
and, likely, stopped to look back from the gates    
to see later kids play the self same fool.    
There's nothing much left of our vanished past    
a few bricks here and there and these old stones    
blackened and weather worn but these, perhaps,    
trace paths back to childhood and to our home.    
Six generations of us passed this way    
But sadly, now, those were our yesterdays.
Written by Rew
Published | Edited 12th Mar 2023
Author's Note
Bamboo hoops/trundling hoops an ancient game.
These hoops came from a local butter packing factory
and they shaped and held butter barrels together.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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