Posted by Admin on 24 February 2008, 12:00 am
Then
The children, faces upturned, stand
with bare toes deep in dark brown sand.
Neglected castles, crabs, and shells,
attest the strength of counter spells.
Their peals reach promenade and town
when blows from Punch send Judy down
to depths of mystery that stand
concealed upon the warm dark sand.
Now
The youngsters, blasé, pause to see
some free-style wrestling on TV.
They get no thrill: each vicious grab,
the ‘scissors’ or the ‘Boston crab’.
Or rough stuff when the ref’ is slow,
“It’s phoney, man”: the sceptics know.
The broad box holds no mystery,
how sad for kids that watch TV!
T. C. Hudson
© T. C. Hudson.
Village
Parish Council