The days of yore
are brought to the fore,
When I walk past the school,
When life was cool.
We all played games together,
In most types of weather.
Played French skipping,
Some scrapes from tripping.
”Tag you’re it!” And kiss chase,
Tease and pull a face.
British Bulldog too,
This is where we grew.
By Deborah Wood-Holland.
writer5 