Brick wall walking

I walked on those low brick walls as a fearless kid....

Went home with grazes and scars, which from mum I hid....

Although the brick walls and rails still look the same....

No remnants remain on the bricks of my chalk-scribed name....

Rusty bars, flaking paint, bricks now covered in moss....

What was once a child's playing field, now no one gives a toss....

The surrounding echoes memories of those good times past....

The inevitabilities of life proves nothing is here to last.   

#whelerhouse

Poem by Asma. 

Cherish Childhood

Oh how I miss my carefree childhood,

running around in my humble neighbourhood. 

Playing tag and hiding in trees,

stamping in puddles and rustling leaves. 

Oh how I miss those days,

some I recall, others a haze. 

Wearing an anorak and as free as a bird, 

I was a small little thing but my presence was heard. 

Oh how I miss my days at school,

a conformist who usually stuck by the rule. 

When little, I was a mischievous child,
but I must add I certainly was not wild! 

Surrounded by love, well-grounded, headstrong,

what ever I did,  I could tell right from wrong. 

Children are so keen to grow up fast,

whilst the old yearn to be young and reminisce on their past. 

Oh those were the good times, memories and all. 

So savour every moment whilst you are still small. 

(Dedicated to my daughter)

By Asma Begum.