I wrote this little tiny poem last month during a workshop.
I was given six lines, each with six syllables, to fill in six minutes. This is what I came up with.
For me, my childhood is filled with memories of autumn; playing in the woods near my home with my parents and sister, getting my hands mucky with dirt. This was the first thing I thought of when I was asked to think back twenty years, and seems all the more poignant with the slow demise of this year’s golden season.
When I was six
Conkers were the size of
Over-sized tennis balls,
Heavy in my small hands.
Baked, strung up with laces
And ready for battle.
I rarely lost a fight.
What do you remember from when you were six?
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