Galleons Sailing Across The Sky

Wallowing in memories
Memories of childhood.
Places and times
Of no importance to
Anyone
But myself.
It was always summer
And summer days
Were always warm,
Day after day
There were white
Galleons sailing across
The sky
On their peaceful mission
To nowhere,
Idyllic days,
Endless days
That seemed to
Go on forever.
Exploring the country
Around the town
On my bike
With Sam,
A Highland Terrier
At my heel,
I chatted with him
Incessantly
And he listened
Storing away the names
Of places
That fell from my lips,
It was enough world
For any youngster.
To learn the ways of
Animals, and birds
The hours spent lying
In the long grass
Watching a vixen
With her cubs.
Down by the old
Railway line
Watching the
Permanent Way
Gang
Making the track
Good.
The day I found
Old Kea church,
A tiny church
That fascinated me
Meeting Punt, a hobo,
And slowly becoming his friend.
The Irishman was a born
Raconteur
And he wove
For me stories
That captivated me,
I fell in love
With the human voice then
And poetry
Started me on a journey
That has never ended.
Creeping into the
Cathedral
Not sure if I were allowed
And marvelling that it
Stood
And reading the plaques
Of the dead
The great and good
Of this world.
Idless woods
The site of a hillfort,
Which took me back
To the Iron Age
And gave my young mind
A playground for
My thoughts.
Trennick, Trelissick,
Polwhele, Polperrow
Penweathers and Penelewey
The Tre, Pol and Pen
Of Cornwall
Were a part of the very
Fabric of me,
This was my arena
And I knew it
Like the back
Of my hand
It was a time
When we learned about
Our place in the world,
It was a place of
Wonders
And a place that
Was above all
Part of me.
Childhood, a magic
Time of discovery.

by Mike Tonkin

Comments (1)

So now it is that you do so speak of all that it was that you heard, shared