It's weeks since we have walked upon the Downs

And there's more work to do before we can

Take the train to Shrewsbury for a break

To wander on the Long Mynd and the span

Of Wenlock Edge, Caer Caradoc and the hills

Which softly fold around  Church Stretton's streams.

As a boy I took the bus from town

To spend Good Fridays, lulled by Easter dreams,

Along the Cardingmill with family friends

Whose names have long faded from my memory

- David, our Aunt Dolly, and the rest -

Exposed to the expanse of my forgettery.

          This poem needs an open end, for how,

          Half a century on, will they seem now?

Brian Hick 2009

©copyright Sally Hick 8.7.22