Growing Up – Poem

This is one of a series of poems, written by my Grandmother, that represent a portrait of her childhood in Thomas Hardy’s Wessex, places and people she loved who are, for the most part, no longer with us.

She dedicates each and every poem to her daughters, and has kindly given me permission to share them with you all, enjoy…

Growing Up

We crossed the stream on stepping stones

And gathered ‘cuckoo spit’

And found the baby swans who hid

Amongst the reeds. We bit

 

The heads off cowslip flowers, to sip

The nectar. And we picked

Blackberries to be turned to jam

And scarlet hips, and licked

 

The blood from fingers that were torn

By brambles, wrapped dock leaves

Around ankles stung by nettles;

Whilst on the hill the sheaves

 

Were gathered, and the blazing leaves

Of autumn made a bold

Last stand before the frost convinced

Us that the year was old.

 

© Dorothy Davis-Sellick 1998 onwards

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Filed under Meet The Family, Other Folks Writings That I Like, Poem Of The Week, Poetry

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