Filby Broad

Filby Broad

Twenty five years ago

I walked this way,

With children laughing

On another summer day

We lived close to here

And knew it well,

The sound of lapping water,

What tales it could tell

Just a minute’s walk

From woodland to Broads,

Through dappled light

We walked the boards

You, my daughter,

Always left behind,

Gathering sticks and stones,

Whatever you could find

A pocket full of fairy cups,

Feathers in your hair,

Elastic bands and pine cones,

You were the collector extraordinaire

Now we are back

To share this treat

With your bouncy baby boy,

Monty’s on his feet

First faltering steps,

An unsteady gait

He’s found a twig

And so we wait

Soon it will be

Shells and moss,

Anything left behind

Will be a loss

pockets will bulge

with gravel and sand,

petals and leaves

in a sweaty hand

flowers picked

from the wild,

you could only be

your mother’s child