Conkers

Conkers

Children playing in the park

Laughing, shouting until it’s dark.

Run round the tree, climb up its bark

On to the branch, what a lark.

A wooden seat that makes a swing

Laugher rises, joyful noises ring

High in the air, we feel a king,

And yet below, now here’s the thing,

Children dance round collecting conkers

Generations have played, but now it’s bonkers

Traditional rules, old customs we applaud

But you mustn’t play, for now it is outlawed.

Linda Prince