It's like the old days,
no traffic and no electricity..
The roads were full of dirt
and dust was the air we breathe.
It's like a throwback moment,
when newest car models,
had to be pushed to start the engine.
The trails through the farms,
connecting to the main roads,
had been drawn by feet,
the constant walking,
the grass gave way.
The rocks lined across the river,
safest bet to cross to the other side.
When it rained, the rocks disappeared..
& then you had to change route,
to get to a bridge,
if it was lucky enough not to have been swept away.
The houses were scattered,
the name neighbours was foreign..
but everyone you met you knew,
small town.
The shops were miles away,
you had to buy breakfast the night before.
Milk came straight from the cows' udders,
bread was baked by the famous Mandevu.
The children played the role of a clock..
That's if, the cock crowed but
because you couldn't snooze,
forgot to wake up.
They told the time, they told the seasons.
You'd see them in the mornings,
walking to school in groups.
You'd hear them play over break times..
& they'd fill the roads on the way back home.
The holidays had them everywhere,
making happy noises,
getting creative and being themselves.
The parents were always seen around,
or were always at work.
Those who worked,
worked far from here.
They would walk, at times,
3 hours to work.
It was the other side of today.
It was the other side of what we have.
