The old cricket ground.
The world was filled with sights and sound,
As I ran across that pitch.
The smooth flat field was freshly cut
And smelt of summer.
Long evenings stretched out on the grass breathing in the smell of freshness, of friendship.
Lazy afternoons cheering through a game.
The real world was still there, yet so far away.
The traffic trundled past on the road, it didn't matter.
More important were the distant shouts of joy as eyes were opened to the possibilities of vastness.
The bells chimed from the cathedral tower,
The clock chimed to tell the hour and far above the birds sawed, singing their songs of freedom.
As I ran across heavens carpet,
I could have joined them in their song.
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