It is rarely used.
At first glance.
It doesn't appear to be anything special.
A community yard.
With a couple of fruit trees.
And an old rusted shed.
Yet, each time I walk through the gate.
I can't help but think.
This would have been a place I loved.
As a child.
With imagination.
It could be a magical hideaway.
A place to play.
To dream.
To have a private secret garden.
That would rival that of Mary, Colin and Dicken.
Tonight I tried to look at it.
As I would have as a child.
No comments:
Post a Comment