there is a river in front of our home
my brothers and i used to splash in it
and pretended to be in a war
shooting fake guns and throwing pine cones as grenades
our mother used to yell at us
to come home and behave
she shouted, ‘there’s no war. stop creating one’
as if we were at fault for all of the wrong in the world
to the right, stood a shed
it was dark blue as the rain washed the paint
next to it a barn that housed our horses and cows
i was frightened of the pigs
but i used to love getting the fresh eggs from the chicken coop
we had two dogs
zabba and kubba
they were small but brave
as they wagged their tails high owning the place
happy to see me, to see my brothers
i was small, maybe seven or eight
but i loved when cherry tree blossomed
and the pears and plums grew in early
we had a swing
and my sister adored it
she read books and told me stories
behind our house is a small hill
the grass grew high and no one cared
one day a rooster got into the house
we all screamed
winters were cold and we sat by the fire oven
cutting out snowflakes for the christmas tree, glue and glitter
we made costumes for halloween
we grew up poor but we had fun

we were happy

© simon whittle — 19.0209