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Memories of old,

flooding fast through my mind,

some tinged with sadness

and some, sweet sublime.


A fireside reverie shared

with eyes so bright,

an audience of innocence

and excited delight.


The crackling logs        

on the fires of time,

the little rapt faces as

you feed them a line.


Of thunder, lightning,

and rain as we run!

Football, toy-fighting,

such laughter and fun.


Flying a kite that

you made on your own

out of bin bags and tape

and canes tied and bowed.


A dam in the brook,

fighting flowing water

with rocks, wood

and uncontrolled laughter.


Till finally plugged,

the waters rise

deeper and wider

before delighted eyes.              


Then comes the challenge,     

“Who can burst the dam?”

No touching allowed,

just throw what you can.


Bricks and sticks

and boulders and all,

sploshing and splashing

they uselessly fall.


But the water's still rising

and there's panic in our eyes,

it'll soon reach the road,

“Better run for our lives!”       


But wait, what’s this,

could this do the trick?

As long as a gate post

and three times as thick.


We wrestle and heave              

and drag it uphill,       

pushing and pulling      

and testing our will.   


Till finally atop and

we let out a sigh,          

this might just work,  

“We'll give it a try”.     


Straining and grunting

and chuckling with glee            

as we swing it between us,



With a whoosh and a crack

our dam is no more

as the post breaks its back

and we’re laughing on the floor.


Such innocent times,

that can still make me grin,

they live in the mind

of the sweet child within.



Written by Darren Scanlon, March 2011.

This revised version written, 17th July 2015.

©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.





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