Homework WE 24-8-15 - The Street Where I Grew Up
Posted: Tue Aug 18, 2015 1:23 pm
The Street Where I Grew Up
(c) Shelley Hansen 2015
I see it through nostalgia's eyes - the street where I grew up.
Like many country towns, its girth was wide -
the only avenue of stately jacaranda trees
with timber houses queueing side by side.
My parents stood and chatted with the folk who lived next door,
the seeds of friendship sown "across the fence".
Mum served a daily diet that was rich in homemade fare
and liberally spiced with common sense.
We kids played backyard cricket, ran our go-carts down the hill -
our Saturdays were filled with joyous play.
The only time we went "online" was pegging out the clothes
while giving Mum a hand on washing day!
Once more I walk along this street to capture if I can
the majesty of yesterday's sweet song.
My mind's eye builds a landscape I expect to be the same
when suddenly I notice something's wrong.
The trees are gone - replaced with fences over six feet high,
no sound of children's laughter fills the air.
I long for cheery greetings, but each door is bolted tight
and no one even knows that I am there.
The sun has risen twenty thousand times since I was here
and fifty years have washed away my youth.
I feel bereft and sad - so much has changed, not least myself -
until I realise a simple truth ...
Though time may take us far away from places in the heart,
though years may yield their share of storms and strife,
we're never really destitute while memories of gold
weave thread-like through the tapestry of life.
(c) Shelley Hansen 2015
I see it through nostalgia's eyes - the street where I grew up.
Like many country towns, its girth was wide -
the only avenue of stately jacaranda trees
with timber houses queueing side by side.
My parents stood and chatted with the folk who lived next door,
the seeds of friendship sown "across the fence".
Mum served a daily diet that was rich in homemade fare
and liberally spiced with common sense.
We kids played backyard cricket, ran our go-carts down the hill -
our Saturdays were filled with joyous play.
The only time we went "online" was pegging out the clothes
while giving Mum a hand on washing day!
Once more I walk along this street to capture if I can
the majesty of yesterday's sweet song.
My mind's eye builds a landscape I expect to be the same
when suddenly I notice something's wrong.
The trees are gone - replaced with fences over six feet high,
no sound of children's laughter fills the air.
I long for cheery greetings, but each door is bolted tight
and no one even knows that I am there.
The sun has risen twenty thousand times since I was here
and fifty years have washed away my youth.
I feel bereft and sad - so much has changed, not least myself -
until I realise a simple truth ...
Though time may take us far away from places in the heart,
though years may yield their share of storms and strife,
we're never really destitute while memories of gold
weave thread-like through the tapestry of life.