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THE WAY HOME
Usually there is more than one way back home,
When this thought came to mind years back I did roam
To my childhood with a long walk home from school,
Although to stick to the main road was the rule,
I often used to cheat and the fields way home I took,
Which meant climbing a stile and jumping the brook.

We’d go over bluebell hill, through the meadow sweet,
Gathering a small bunch to take home as a little treat.
Run through the long grass to join the path again,
Stop and rest awhile before going along the winding lane,
The distance was shorter but a lot longer time it took,
Especially if we stopped to play in the woody nook.

The fields way was by far my favorite way to go,
Even on the odd time it was covered in white snow,
Or even in the rain and mud oozed in my shoes,
As silly as it seems that way home I’d choose
Rather than walking home quickly the way I should,
I’d much rather, then and now, go through a field or wood.

(Millicent) Ann Margetson October 2, 2003