[cathidaw]

I remember the privy at the end of the path.
Its roof held together by cobwebs and lath.
Twin seated it was, of old splintered wood.
Quite why there were two was not understood.

Blistering paint on the handle free door
Crumbling bricks on the bare earthen floor.
Damp paper squares on a big rusty nail
Carefully torn from an old Daily Mail.

We played hide and seek from this little room
Counting loudly in the gloom.
With sunbeams peeping through the gaps
Then running out shouting ,"Coming chaps".

Delicious, haunting evenings, the nights full of sound
Walking up the dewy path, odd rustlings abound.
Scary moonlit monsters lurking in the trees.
Hearts beat a little faster-we trembled at the knees.

Relief to reach that room at night - the candles in their jars
Looking upwards to the roof and gazing at the stars,
With time to ponder, time to dream, a haven from outside,
Such magic in my memory-this place I used, to hide.