大象传媒

During the War, although my family was not offically evacuated from Liverpool, for safety's sake, my mother and we children (two of us at that time) moved out to the country (Mawdesley) and lived in an old farm-house, which we shared with two other families. My earliest memories, therefore, are of that farm and growing up there. I suppose I had some sense of the War being waged, but a child's sense. Much later, one of my memories of that farm developed into the following poem:

THE HAZEL BASKET
They made a basket for me,
Those men who came to make rat traps
Out of the hazel twigs from trees in the lane.
They sat on their haunches in the barn,
With their cloth caps,
And their old jackets tattered and torn,
Quietly talking among themselves,
Of subjects I could not understand,
Of war and peace,
And bombs over Liverpool.
Perhaps they too did not understand,
For their faces were always smiling and bright,
As their fingers worked nimbly,
Though gnarled and worn,
Plaiting the twigs in and out, in and out.
I watched them shyly;
I can't remember uttering a word.
They too seemed shy,
For they never spoke a word to me.
But they made me a basket,
And with a smile
Gave it to me as I stood by.
Why did they make rat traps in the barn?
Why did they make me a basket?

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.