Magical days,
Memories of gold,
It's hard to forget, those good days of old.
Walks through the woods, with picnic at hand,
Nature at best in this green pleasant land.
Summer time trips, to the beach on the train,
The Merry Go Round, turns again and again,
Dipping our toes in the incoming waves,
Slot machine time, with the pennies we'd saved.
In the tin bath, before going to bed,
Up the wooden hill! Were those words my Mum said.
Warm cosy Winters, in front of the tele,
Potted meat sarnies with ice cream and jelly,
Twinkling lights on the old Christmas tree,
With fairy on top, placed so gently by me.
With parents that gave us the best they could give,
Memories of gold,
Those I'd gladly relive.
Jayne Davies
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem