The Stone Where We Used To Sit
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.