Sisters, Do You Remember Burcombe.

My twin sister and myself were born in a little village called Burcombe.
In Wiltshire, England. Very similar to the village in Somerset where I now live.
Sadly my sister Betty is no longer with us but her poem says so much about those
carefree times of our childhood.

SISTERS' DO YOU REMBEMBER BURCOMBE

Do you remember Burcombe? The willow tree shaped like an arbour,
Our big old fashioned stone floor larder.
The apple tree named Beauty of Bath,each wobbly legged new born calf.
Those little leaded window panes, the scarlet runner climbing canes.

The tree lined lane we walked to school,our jumpers all hand knitted wool.
Blackberry staines on childrens lips, old mans beard and wild rose hips.
Snowballs making fingers raw, our milk drunk through a real straw.
When it rained and froze so quickly, every twig was covered thickly.

With ice that sparkled in the sun, then slowly thawed to drip and run.
Bluebell woods in wild array, I wonder are they there today.?
Oh' the summers warm and bright, when we couldn't sleep at night.
The river cool and so inviting, such temptation fish are biting.

Mouth water tasting rhubarb tart, riding on the old hay cart.
Poor rabbits chased it made me cry but how we loved that rabbit pie.
Our playhouse was the flour mill etched in my mind it is there still.
And in my dreams I hold on tight, the wheel turns waters gushing might.

Remember cricket in the field, those homemade bats we used to wield.
"Hows that, your out, I'm not you are," our echoed shouts rang loud and far.
The tall yew tree I couldn't master, six weeks I had that arm in plaster.
It came off just in time for school, all through the hols, yes life is cruel.

So many memories I recall I wish I could record them all.
We moved away to different parts for husbands came to steal our hearts.
Each of us a different way, yet I remember still today.
SISTERS DO YOU REMEMBER BURCOMBE ?.

Betty Barnard.

My lovley twin sister.