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The Fifties
I can remember when children behaved like children.
especially when school closed for the summer recess.
After breakfast we met up for another adventure,
with a bottle of water and sandwiches of jam, or cress.
We would set off for the not too far badlands,
where the taboo river was shallow enough to cross.
With our bows and arrows crafted from willow,
and our quivers made from old school socks.
In a clearing surrounded by trees we'd make camp
and build a fire protected by stones.
We'd sit down cross legged and tell stories of interest,
and crack jokes as old, as old bones.
After a laugh and an exchange of sandwiches,
we'd build a den from branches with leaves.
We'd go swimming in the shallows of the river
until the pangs of hunger forced us to leave.
This was a typical summer's day of adventure,
a day when friends in the morning met.
A day of many that was well worth remembering,
and in adulthood how could we forget.
poem
by
Orlando Belo
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