YESTERYEAR.

I remember when I was a child, the things of yesteryear,
Memories all fond of long hazy warm summer days,
To be awakened by the crowing cock always near
My window pane. Then at the lovely sunrise gaze.

We’d gather the eggs and feed the pigs and fowl,
Send the cows after milking into the meadow so green,
Watch the rain clouds form, listen to the thunder growl,
And scrub the big kitchen table till it was clean.

We would gather kindling in the wood and flowers too.
Help with the washing, hanging it out was the best.
Making the butter which was put in a pot of bright blue,
At last eating a meal, then doing dishes with no time to rest.

At the end of the day we’d all kneel down to pray
On the red tiled floor that always smelt like cream,
Each head would bow as we thanked God for the day,
Then off to bed, we were too tired to even dream.

Yet in the winter months when the weather was cold,
We were on the way to school before the cock did crow,
The animals stayed in the barn, sheep stayed in the fold,
But oh the fun we had when we had a lot of snow.

But Christmas was the best, when everyone came home,
And decorations were hung and some presents were found,
There would be treats in plenty, no one wanted to roam,
For within those old farm walls true love did always abound.

M Ann Margetson July 11 1999 ©
99POEMS/Yesteryear.