word block

too harsh.
I'll end with a good Thank you.

It was long ago

I'll tell you, shall I, something I remember?

Something that still means a great deal to me.

It was long ago.

A dusty road in summer I remember,

A mountain, and an old house, and a tree,

That stood, you know,

Behind the house. An old woman I remember.

In a red shawl with a grey cat on her knee.

Humming under a tree.

She seemed the oldest thing I can remember,

But the perhaps I was not more than three.

It was long ago.

I dragged on the dusty road, and I remember

How the old woman looked over the fence at me

And seemed to know

How it felt to be three, and called out, I remember

"Do you like bilberries and cream for tea?"

I went under the tree

And while she hummed, the cat purred, I remember

How she filled a saucer with berries and cream for me

So long ago.

Such berries and such cream as I remember,

I never had seen before, and never see

Today, you know.

And that is almost all I can remember

I never had seen before, and never see

Today, you know.

And the taste of the berries, the feel of the sun I remember,

And the smell of everything that used to be

So long ago,

Till the heat on the road outside again I remember,

And how the long dusty road seemed to have for me

No end, you know.

That is the farthest thing I can remember.

It won't mean much to you. It does to me.

Then I grew up, you see.

-- eleanor farjeon

Make sense of my mess