Today sees me back in the familiar territory of childhood memory and boyhood myth-making.
Leafy Navy
Often, when we’d head out walking
as a family – dog in tow,
I’d come across a mighty river running
with little fishes swimming to and fro.
We’d gather up some leaves and sticks
and build a drydock by the water side
and there build ourselves a navy from the twigs
and from their berth into the water slide.
I’d chase my miniature flotilla
down along the rushing river
— seeing grand tall ships with timbers all a shiver
that I alone, to the sea, must deliver.
The river, rushing deep and wide
cared not for my hopes or chase
and would often wash this armada to the side
dashing some on rocks and sinking them in place.
But always some few ships would brave it,
dodging rapids, rocks and reeds,
and I would always know they’d made it
out past the estuary to sail the seven seas.
But, I learnt later on
when twigs and leaves and boyhood’s gone
that the river was a stream
and thoughts of sea adventures but a dream
But still when I head out walking
along a river or a stream
and let my memory do the talking
and give my childhood leave to dream
I often think of my leafy navy
with all the sailors singing bravely
of a boy running to and fro
with his family and a dog in tow.