Of shillings and treasure

I watched the shilling spinning
it was mine in no small measure
Enough to buy two Matchbox cars
to hold and keep and treasure
The fingers twisted blithely
as they caught and spun again
but I saw no abandon
found no one there to blame

For today was like a birthday
though mine was months away
when my uncle gave a shilling
on that special Saturday
And the Matchbox cars I purchased
for a purpose there to measure
are with me still as both I’ve held
and kept close as a treasure

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics

19 February 1974

The knock at the door
I remember it well
though forty-six years have now passed
The vicar right there
with something to share
for a slap in the face that would last

It was anger I felt
with a fist in the air
that my father had left in that way
And I heard not a sound
from that hole in the ground
as I stood on that February day

It’s a picture I have
that years never fade
A boy of fifteen there bereft
Not a word of a lie
quite unable to cry
in spite of the void that was left

But thankfully time
the healer of ills
has mellowed the anger to love
And the man of those years
can now shed the tears
as he thinks of his father above

The slap in the face
has turned to a hug
lingering, precious and mine
and though there’s still sadness
there’s also a gladness
with his memory shared at this time

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics

[In loving memory of my father – John Alan Croucher – 10/5/34 to 19/2/74]

In pictures

I’ve been looking through my pictures
as I do from time to time
at photos I have taken
in the sunshine when it’s fine
others taken in the rain
or when walking by the sea
or up there on the Sussex hills
all precious here to me

For in each I see a something
of a moment captured there
a snapshot caught for memory
to treasure and to share

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics

Past & Present

Small boy on the beach
throws pebbles in the air
Can you see the circles spreading
Have they caught you unaware?

Small boy on the beach
chases waves that turn and fall
Can you hear the distant murmer
of that far off echoed call?

Small boy on the beach
walks tightrope on the groyne
Here is my mind’s eye picture
as past with present joins

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics

[Jemverse previously published this as ‘Small boy on the beach’ in July 2014]

Pictures II

Do you have a picture
one close to your heart
Capturing a moment
from which you cannot part?
Perhaps it looks like mine
though I have many, truth be told
Ones I will keep with me
Until I’m very old

They capture special moments
and I feel them every one
Some started many years ago
and some have just begun
Yet all of them are precious
and completely part of me
Pictures bringing substance
to a treasured memory

©Jemverse

 

The boy and the bindweed

Walking out at lunchtime
I saw down at my feet
something from my boyhood
and a memory was piqued
Bindweed on the way to school
white flowers on the way
Picked and popped at passers’ by
on every summer’s day

They grew there in abundance
and though trajectory was short
we didn’t really mind as
they gave merriment and sport
And yes, I know that they will irritate
gardeners nowadays
But then, in all my innocence
they were fun in lots of ways

©Jemverse

Forget me not

I’ll not forget forget-me-not
exquisite, small and blue
For it’s etched there in a memory
never to eschew

From May through late October
in the churchyard, on my way
How could I forget forget-me-not
for I see it every day?

©Jemverse

The not quite there

Contemplative quiet and still
now seems as good a time
to sit back here, reflective
whilst I’m feeling fine

Can’t quite put my finger on
though I’m trying hard to share
Intangible, perched on the edge
it’s not exactly there

A memory, a ‘je ne sais quoi’
I’m not quite sure you see
It’s really most frustrating
and remains a mystery

©Jemverse

Simply a sixpence

I once had a sixpence
that was shiny and new
and was full of the joy
of the good it would do
But its devaluation
over time was intense
as now it is worth
just over two pence

Back then it could get me
a brand new toy car
or a big bag of sweets
from my favourite jar
But now there is nothing
that alone it can buy
An indictment to life
so sad I could cry

But putting time to one side
for the moment at least
there is plenty besides
on which we can feast
For that memory brings back
a smile for the years
Days of innocence shared
with laughter and tears

And though the sixpence
won’t purchase anything now
It’s intrinsic value
is greater somehow
For its memory holds treasure
making me a rich man
in more ways than money
ever did or still can

©Jemverse

My Lavender

My lavender hides a memory
deep within its scent
One of when the days were warm
and full of good intent
It’s a fragrance steeped in whimsy
which conjures up a smile
as in these winter days I breathe
its aroma in a while

©Jemverse

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