Let me tell you what we did,
to pass the time, when I'as a kid
We’d rummage the dumps to scavenge parts,
to build our trusty billy-carts.
Once we dragged up the street,
an old piece of iron we could beat.
We flattened every corrugation,
with bricks and hammers, and determination.
With fruit-box ends, a stolen nail or two,
we built a beautiful tin canoe.
Proudly we carried it to the creek,
only to find our tin craft did leak.
We had no such thing as silicone
But wit and cunning we did own
We sat and waited for the hot summer sun,
And before too long, the road tar run.
With sticks we scooped it into a tin,
and plugged every hole, where the water came in.
Then we boarded our trusty boat,
and to our amazement, it really did float!!
Other kids in the street built their own canoes,
And many roofs vanished, from back yard loos.
Kids from all along the street,
joined to form their own naval fleet.
All summer long, we fought naval wars,
And the only injuries sustained were paspallium sores.
Clear summer skies changed to winter’s blues
So we decommissioned our fleet of small tin canoes.
When the winter rains wet the quarry's clay,
The next adventure was born, the Masonite sleigh.
With a pull on the rope, to make the Masonite bend,
at break-neck speed, into the quarry we’d descend.
When the daredevil ride finally came to a stop,
with sleigh in tow, we’d climb back to the top.
A few more rides, and chilled to the bone,
with our sleighs safely hidden,
we’d make our way home.
and drank cocoa made from fresh milk
made snow sleds from old store signs
braved the big hill and had grand times
constructed stick castles in the wood
listened to Grampa's stories when we could
in doll clothes finery we dressed our cats
at twilight threw dirt clods at barn bats
we swung on a rope tied to an oak tree
Mama would have had a heart attack to see
The way we flew over that deep ravine
you'd think we were dying the way we'd scream
Sometimes in summertime we'd sneak
and skinny dip like heathens in the creek
it was a good time to grow up in
remembered now by old women and men.
LOVE your poem David, it inspired me!!
Connie
I was a tomboy & the boys & I built tree forts...
Treasure Hunting
Vickie
Regis
Anna