There are homes and then there's children's homes

There are children's homes and then there are children's homes 

The one I knew was a home from home

Age four mum and her sister set one up 

With hard work, love and courage 

The biggest house my young eye's had seen

A large dappled wooden rocking horse to gallop and whoop for good

A magic garden with its own small wood

Fallen trunk as a natural frame to climb and dodge imaginary bullets behind

The children then came from all of Liverpool 

Siblings kept together to breath free and grow

Boys and girls of differing size and colour

Came together in this land of joy

Seven brightly coloured years for me 'til 11

My brothers and sisters without the blood

Big characters, big memories, Star-Anna, Desie, Julie, Rita, Stephen and Stevie, Robert, Big John, Little John and more and more and little me

Dad built more homes for a hectic menagerie 

Rabbits, red eyed angora's and black and white Dutch

Budgies galore, single canary, name forgotten and Myna bird called Charlie

Who wolf whistled to get us in trouble and make us jump with glee 

My own dog Terry Mont the terrier from Montgomery 

The most patient dog ever, from even a pup

With 12 pairs of hands, hugging, tugging, loving him

His happy grin to keep us bought in

The years rolled by, families came and parted 

The years celebrated in old fashioned ways

Easter eggs so big, so thick, you could hardly break them

Apple bobbing, home made treacle toffee, halloween dark nights

Guy on his bommie and fireworks so fly

Chestnuts and potatoes baked in hot coals

Sausages spitting, sizzling, singing our names

The smells still with me today and forever

Then the big one, Christmas is coming, Christmas is coming

Tree so massive, festooned with antique glitter

Trips to panto with magic in our eyes

Christmas Day a dozen of the happiest, sweetified souls 

Eager to unwrap our wished for toys

Kitchen wafting the bestest of smells and emotions

And then there were the long hot glorious summers

Weeks and weeks in a caravan by the sea

Only local was Formby in reality

But a different country for them and me

A place where cowboys, indians and armies scrambled 

With people dieing spectacularly 

Guns of sticks and pure imagination 

Days that drained our very last breaths

This home a magic island where happy lives were forged 

Memories so bright, full and quick, to last an age

Where are you now my friends from Alder

Lost touch before this social media age

Lost but not forgotten as you can clearly see

Hope all's well with you, as it is for me