Mates..

poem by: Frank Hornby .
Written on Mar 15, 2024

"I'm sitting here quietly thinking...as now quite often I do..
recalling the crazy things...that we'd all get up to..
smiling with memories...of the good times that we had..
the mischievous fun...when i was just a young lad..
Hitchhiking to the match in all kinds of bad weather...
..asleep on the promenade...all huddled closely together..
curled up in a phone box ..now that just wasn't "the norm"..
with our hands on the lightbulb... desperately trying  to keep warm.
Out collecting birds eggs..and climbing dangerous tall trees..
playing footy on the tarmac...always getting cuts on our knees..
but we all kept ourselves fit...now that's true looking back..
running around "Radshaw nook"..was our cross country track..
Alas we grew older, and it's true...Father time never waits..
The happy memories I'll treasure...of when we were all mates."

 

Tags: Happy,

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Frank Hornby . commented on Mar 16, 2024 at 9:11am
Kirkby days...

 

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