Playtime

By Mick Westwood May 11, 2016

Playtime

How did we play when we were young, to occupy our time?
That didn’t seem a problem then, we managed it just fine,
We seemed to be outside all day, from daybreak until night,
Taking full advantage, of every scrap of light.

Climbing, camping, football cricket, the common saw to that,
With two jumpers as the goalposts and a fence post for a bat,
Jump the brook, or ‘stonk’ it, that was our other choice,
Plus singing round a campfire, with an unmelodious voice.

Playing in the sandholes, sliding on a tin,
Climbing up the rock face and skinning all our skin,
Crawling in the caves there, with wonder in our eyes,
Every day was ‘make believe, full of magic and surprise.

‘Conkers’, ‘Hopscotch’, ‘Whip and top’, each season had a game,
‘Marbles’, ‘Tig’ and ‘hide and seek’, never one the same,
‘Kick the can’ and ‘shine the light’, ones we liked the best,
Never time for slacking, never time to rest.

All these things are records, imprinted in your mind,
Take a minute to recall them, your childhood there you’ll find,
Even though our times seemed hard and our life had just begun,
Oh! – didn’t we enjoy it, – didn’t we have fun!

Mick
(Copyright Michael Westwood 2013)

About the author

Mick Westwood

20860 Up Votes

I am a 71 year old retired coal miner, who spent 30 years working underground. Having time on my hands, and in order to keep my brain exercised, I decided to try to write poetry and put down on paper some of my life experience, and my hopes, dreams and other thoughts. I also do a little gardening, but I am hopeless at housework. Much to my wife's displeasure.