The old scaffolding pole,
bridging apple and greengage trees,
five feet from the ground,
was a circus tight-rope, high above the ring,
with no safety net.
The nettle-strewn gap
between fence and garage wall,
eighteen itchy, stinging inches wide,
was a mountain cave, bandits' hideaway,
a secret lair.
The back garden,
bordered by the Montagues' and Farm Road,
ten yards by fifteen of suburban lawn,
was the Oval, Edrich facing McKenzie
for the Ashes.
The house still stands
but the children have moved on,
four boys finding new paths and fields;
and ten more children dream new dreams
across a shrinking world.
