Reflections On Rural Beginnings

As a boy I was fortunate,
I was loved and encouraged,
I felt safe always.

Days endless and sunny,
Running In between furze and rose,
Each moment remarkable.

Watching television with nana,
Old American shows,
I loved lucy.

I dreamt of Jeannie,
Thunderbirds, captain scarlet,
Lemonade and biscuits.

She kept so many drawings,
Held onto all my words,
Proud Hibernian style.

Your heroes were the saints,
Jesus stretched on the cross,
Was your TS Eliot.

We searched in hills and valleys,
Even back the haggart,
He never appeared.

Warning me so cautious,
When a black stray cat,
Meandered in my path.

My nature drove me to reach out,
Run my fingers down her back,
Curiosity killed the lad.

Now looking backward,
Wondering will I ever feel,
That safe again?