Our rocks

The rocks we used to sit on ,

they seem like they have shrunk .

Remember, in the winter ,

we’d build snowmen deside them

and then sledge down the hill .

And the trees on the border

of the ‘ no ball games ’ field ,

they are still just a slanted .

When it was dry , we’d take tums

at running up the trunks

and nesting on the branches .

We’d still play football

in spite of the signs ,

and kick ball into gardens,

and get told off

time after time

after time again .

Those rocks are yours.

Those rocks are mine.

Those rocks are ours.

We are brothers.