Today Grace at d’verse Poet Pub has prompted us to write an Ottavo Rima Poem
My Spinney
In those days we were coppers and robbers,
cowboys and Indians in makeshift teepees,
feral, ferocious gangsters and mobsters,
stalking, spying, vying for victory.
Alien monsters, war-torn soldiers,
lethal enemies in every bush and tree.
Catapult braces, bicycle racing
home with hunger and dirty faces.
I often reminisce such childish bliss,
the ghosts of which I never left behind.
Sacred secrets sworn in boyhood trysts,
historic bytes, like priceless jewels come to mind.
A chance to revisit was not to be missed,
so I journeyed way back to My Spinney to find
in its place an estate of new houses stood.
Bricks and mortar had devoured the wood.
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