Backyard Cricket

 

The summers of my youth

Were not spent

In working class agony

Nor in catholic guilt

Instead

My brother and myself

Spent the daylight hours

Immersed In backyard cricket

 

And in the suburban lot

Between the garage and the clothes hoist

We lived our boyish fantasies

He was Chappell

And I was Lillie

But Peter

That’s my brother

He's left home now

Gone to face life on his own

 

Don't suppose we'll play cricket

This summer or any other

And I know by the time

This summer is over

I'm going to be much much older