A Distant Summer

Those fresh days of Summer, I fondly recall, For there'll be no others, quite like them at all. A trip to the shop, with three pence in hand, A day at the beach, where we'd play in the sand, Rides on the train, to wonderful places, Laughing with friends, now long lost faces, Nights at the pictures to watch James Bond, Searching for tadpoles, in the frogs pond. The sound of the ice cream van, music so fine, Enjoying my treat of a ninety nine. Building a den, with old branches off the ground, Walks through the woods, picking flowers we'd found. We so loved to sit upon Farm Wood Hill, Admiring the view, so peaceful and still. And across the way, the old pit wheels turned, Where many men mined, for fresh coal to be burned. Those long days of Summer, we spent in the Sun, A special reminder, of when I was young. Jayne Louise Davies