Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 11
On those long Summer days
sometimes we'd sit on the hill,
until the train came
and we'd wave,
pretending
we were 'the railway children'

and now
I'm as old as Cribbins and can
barely remember,
how fine
Jenny Agutter
looked.
John Edward Smallshaw
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw  68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems