Mum, I still remember the lovely poem you used to recite:
I went down a lonely lane today,
Nobody else goes down that way.
The flowers and ferns that grow there wild,
Never I fancy, have seen a child.
Red rose campion blushed so red,
The buttercup nodded her golden head.
The speedwell peeped, with blue eyes at me,
And the rose hung over the path to see.
I will not gather you sweet wild flowers
And carry you home to the town to die.
But I'll come each day,
Down that lonely way,
And nod you a greeting as I go by.
Denise
1st February 2017