The pathway leads across the croft <br />Towards the chesnut trees, <br />Been standing there for many years <br />So mighty and so strong, <br />St. Mary's bells are ringing and <br />They echo through the air, <br />While children play so joyfully <br />Upon the slides and swings. <br /> <br />The shadows cool beneath the trees <br />That shade October's sun, <br />As now the field is scattered with <br />The husks and fallen nuts, <br />And dwelling there upon the ground <br />Amongst the twigs and leaves, <br />And where the grass is thin and sparse <br />And sunlight rarely shines. <br /> <br />A young boy fills his pockets and <br />He carries all he can, <br />But still they keep on falling from <br />His small and dirty hands, <br />As two old ladies seated on <br />A worn and wooden bench, <br />Now talk of all those happy times <br />So many years ago.<br /><br />ANDREW BLAKEMORE<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-croft/
