The Lost Sixties

The smell of freshly cut lawns A bright blue sky on Summer morns Our neighbour playing his saxophone As the sun fades my mother calling me home Riding my bike as fast an I can My father whistling as cuts timber on the saw band Endless backyard cricket games Only stopped by sundown flames After a day running outside around Falling to sleep in front of the TV bound Waking to sunlight through my window brightly Feeling safe and loved in my family . © Paul Warren Poetry