Walking through the corridors of time, the echoes
I hear,
Those echoings of children now gone &
are no longer here,
The pitter-patter of tiny feet, once padding
my heart´s floor,
The little squeals of delight, that sadly,
are not here anymore.
The echoings of children, in their playground´s
happy playing,
Sleepy night-time stories & their “God bless
Mummy”, praying,
Errant kites, high flapping, upon those childhood
giggling skies,
Released & lost up to the heavens, upon
the teasing breezy sighs.
Peek-a-boo, Ring-a-o`roses, all those sweet
voiced nursery rhymes,
The classroom chants & games, innocent echoings
of past times,
Rumblings, tumblings, scrapings, of all those
tiny tear-jerked knees,
Soft murmurs of midnight dreamings & the
escaping little sneeze.
Oh for the echoings of children, those small
passing, flighty beings,
Their voices in old walls, sadly, outlive their
swift-gone seeings,
Memory of chatty sticky hands & on small
nape, sweaty little curl,
Words echoing of, “I love you lots, you´re my
best Mum in the world”.
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