There were happy moments when we were young.
The war was remote for us, something the grown ups spoke about.
There were no cars on the roads.
Milk was delivered by horse and cart as were vegetables and parafin.
The sun always seemed to shine and we could roam at will to explore,
play and get into mischief.
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2 comments:
The bliss of being a child is that lack of awareness.
Yes, an other world! Good job too.
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