our dear neighbour

Crawford has been our dear neighbour for almost two decades. We are so fortunate to live next door to him in a house that architecturally mirror’s his. Crawford is retired from a lifetime in school education. He is a gentle, kind,  fun-loving man.

Crawford’s wife Elma died many years ago. I wrote this poem a few summers after her death

Today, this is our garden looking towards Crawford:

I often think how lucky children have been to have had Crawford introduce them to the centre of the world [their imagination]:

As neighbours we are so fortunate to live in houses cradled by a play-park and a bowling green. From our gardens it is lovely to hear the bowlers cheer each other on in good-spirited competition (whatever the age of those playing). It is also lovely to hear the sounds of children playing in the play-park, where grandparents – involved in a game of hide-and-seek – will announce to their grandchildren:

“coming ready or not!”

Yes, all ages can go to the centre of the universe: ready or not!



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