Poetry / Rocking Horse

As a boy I heard it said if beggars were horses then we kids would ride upon our rocking horses for the rest of our lives. If it were true what more could I wish than to share my life with the girl next door, the one I called Trish. She too had a rocking horse, like me, and together we’d ride in playtime to lands beyond the sea , where the streets were shining so full of gold and grown-ups said kids would never ever grow old but it seemed so wild, that strange
dream until the rainbow and the early morning dew in a field. Then life took on sweet memory and nostalgia gripped me still to remember with a thrill halcyon days of tender childhood when we prayed to the Lord to ask His will. And so full circle, like a power beat our children play on our rocking horses, its their sudden craze while Mum and me sit still watching ,drinking wine, in the sunset blaze thinking of those toys of ours and hearing those mandolins play a love song across the sea for us and all of Napoli !

The end

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