I remember the stone where we used to sit

At the very end of the garden.

I can see us walking down the path

Past the roses; pinks and reds,

Along the tended flower beds

Our knees all covered with dirt and grit

In our Grandmother's garden.

Down the path, my cousin and me;

Pulling fruit from raspberry canes,

Unaware of Summer rains

To the stone where we used to sit

In our Grandmother's garden,

Whilst cherry blossom fell around

Softening the traffic's sound.

Past the lilac, down the path

Down the path where pigeons pecked

To the stone where we used to sit

In my Granmother's garden.

In grubby shorts with dirty nails

Watched busy ants and snails trails

From the stone where we used to sit,

As darkness fell

And the lamps were lit.