´óÏó´«Ã½

By kind permission of the Author

They robbed us of our bomb-site playground, those men
Coming with diggers and concrete mixers when
We least expected it. We knew the war
Was over, but you had to ask, what for?
Street parties, yes, but nothing was better yet.
Even returning dads were set
In their ways, pre-war strict, after the fun
Of troubled nights and cuddling up to Mum.
We waited till the weekend to return
To the building site, grid-ironed with trenches. A cairn
Of creosoted beams awaited us
Longer than railway sleepers. Delirious
With joy, we set about constructing forts.
The Wild West lived again, or Arthur’s courts,
Or if the boys were busy with their sports,
We girls played house, re-building patiently
The games those men destroyed persistently.
We found the ghostly skeletons, one day,
Of real dwellings where we used to play
And knew those men had won. A village grew
And, as the years went by, so we grew too.

‘This story was submitted to the People’s War site by ´óÏó´«Ã½ Radio Merseyside’s People’s War team on behalf of the author and has been added to the site with his/ her permission. The author fully understands the site’s terms and conditions.’

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