Along The Field As We Came By

where i lived as a child a little jungle thrived opposite our row of wooden houses migrant houses built just to live with bare necessities the beds, tables and chairs mom's wedding presents the only decor in the rooms the few toys we begged from dad and mom strewn across the floor the verandah sometimes ended up on the shelf oddly they sat to brighten up our house and over the jungle a hive of activities kept our days occupied we had run to capture poor dragonflies in such rich hue of red we caught them to devour each other up planting their tails onto each other's mouth up on the tree one day a heron appeared so white and graceful it looked to this day, it remained in my mind lucky little heron that took up a space in my memory giving my middle age heart a young jolt each time i recollect the scene the smell of rubber, latex, torn leaves lingers too in the memory those times that we braved ourselves to walk through the patch of jungle breaking little trunks and tearing leaves oh lord, we were naughty naughty little tarzans till one day somebody decided to build houses over the patch two storey houses with stars for their long balconies mom and dad decided to move into one of the upper units and there we embarked on another dream....of stars we went to school we went to so many places but the little patch of jungle still thrives in our mind the smell of rubber and torn leaves so fresh on the nostrill inspired by Along the field as we came by ALONG the field as we came by A year ago, my love and I, The aspen over stile and stone Was talking to itself alone. ‘Oh who are these that kiss and pass? A country lover and his lass; Two lovers looking to be wed; And time shall put them both to bed, But she shall lie with earth above, And he beside another love.’ And sure enough beneath the tree There walks another love with me, And overhead the aspen heaves Its rainy-sounding silver leaves; And I spell nothing in their stir, But now perhaps they speak to her, And plain for her to understand They talk about a time at hand When I shall sleep with clover clad, And she beside another lad. Alfred Edward Housman