For My Brother

For My Brother

When we were young and full of fun

And all our days were carefree

Do you remember that September

We climbed the old pear tree?

The finest crop grows at the top,

That bramble jam we ate,

Our mother made and carefully laid

On shelves with name and date.

We took a stick and went to pick

The biggest blackest berries,

Pulling down to near the ground

Clusters hung like cherries.

Remember the gate where we used to wait

For the early morning light,

To show in the field the wonderful yield

Of mushrooms, gleaming white.

The nuts we found so full and round

And filberts too, so rare,

That lovely autumn on Sapperton Common,

What joy we used to share.

Wild harvest brings a host of things

Mushrooms, nuts and fruit,

But best of all, with every fall,

Comes memory, absolute.

Written by my Auntie Kath for my dad, recalling the early 1920s in Gloucestershire.