I grew up in a valley, among golden corn.
Playing among corn stookes, the wagon horse drawn.
The deep low of cattle was ever near.
The cackle of poultry sweet on the ear.

We all need the rhythm of nature to live.
And learn that in talking we must also give.
Those early days seemed a life of content.
Accepting all that kind fate had sent.

The village shop sold liquorice, a penny a strip.
And bags of sherbert, a froth on the lips.
Owls hooted in the wood, most of the night.
Then the birds' dawn chorus of morning light.

A river tumbled by the garden wall.
Where a cuckoo gave its mating call.
Beyond, in the woods, primroses grew.
Wild daffodils, bluebells and foxgloves too.

The fragrance of pastures as the dew dried.
and the greenness of summer in the countryside.
All bring back memories that cause eyes to tear!
Long days of pleasure that remain ever near.

I walk down the path where fruit trees had grown.
and thought of fruit-picking days we had known.
Strawberries and raspberries, gooseberries and apples too. Sampled with relish, as all children do! Flowers in the garden grown at random were. A colourful sight just everywhere. I've returned to relive my youth so kind. for the pictures are finally set into my mind.

How grand it was to be happy and content.
With confident spirit, where ever we went.
To what do I owe this life of great care?
To Mother and Father, who were always there.

Submitted by: Emily
Location: Dulverton, Somerset