WALKING HOME
Come back along the steps to my childhood.
Tread the sweet path through bluebell wood,
Dangle your feet in the fast flowing brook,
While reading the chapters of a good book.

Step on the turrets of the old fallen castle wall,
Come and be a knight in the vast deserted hall,
Climb in the caves nearby the poison pool,
Where the rocks all glitter and the air is cool.

Wander through the meadow where cows graze,
Lie and look up at the sun in the afternoon haze,
Walking home from school was always a joy to me,
So many things to do and so many things to see.

There is no more bluebell wood, or poison pool,
No cows in the meadow or caves deep and cool,
The brook is all polluted and smells quite bad,
If this is progression, it is a shame, makes me sad.

For houses and stores and large parking lots now grow,
But where is the beauty and peace I used to know?
Now, I would run all the way home to be safe and sound,
Instead of the wonderful adventures my walking found.

M Ann Margetson © February 20, 2001