WHEN I WAS EIGHT

WHEN I WAS EIGHT

When I was eight

The back door of the house

We lived in back then

Was at the side of the house

So I could look straight inside

The back door of the next house

If the door was open

When I was eight

When I was eight

In between our two houses

There was a driveway running

Through the semi-detached gap

And a pair of tall wooden gates

With lattices that made

The sunlight square

When I was eight

When I was eight

Uncle Clifford’s half had flagstones

Ours had crazy paving

My Dad would lie down

On warm summer evenings

Cleaning out moss

With his penknife

When I was eight

When I was eight

I sat on the doorstep

One warm square-lit evening

Deciding my lucky number

Would always be eight

And my unlucky one

Was going to be nine

When I was eight

Martin A W Holmes, November 2017