Street Urchin

~

I rattled the door knocker

of your mum’s old house

but you were out, so I stuck

it through the letterbox,

the road not wide enough

to turn the car around

I had to reverse back out,

as kids we used to play in 

this street, only three cars in

the whole length of it in those

days, now it’s a slalom,

the old wrought iron two-armed

lamp posts we used to hang from

are long gone, so too

the unfinished dirt patch 

at the dead-end 

overlooking the farmer’s field,

we’d spend days digging 

flints out of it with lolly sticks 

years before Time Team was a thing,

and to think, all those old faces 

that used to stand at their 

front gates watching us kids play

nattering to neighbours

they’re all dead now,

I was born in No2, just after the

Festival of Britain finished,

growing up I knew every person

in every house and their pets,

I notice some of those original front doors 

still stand strong, like gravestones

without names of course,

some of my blood has been spilt

in this street and splinters galore

from scaling garden fences, to retrieve

footballs and cricket balls,

I’m glad you’ve moved back, it’s a

reason for returning here

although a lot has changed

there again

I suppose we’ve all changed

*

© Graham R Sherwood 02/23