& yes I was one of those cheeky little so & so's selling papers at the stop lights.The Bowie knife
While selling arvo newspapers,
between the traffic I would go
then leave before the lights turned green
and grin at that old So and so.
The weeks had passed, my coin I’d saved,
I’m eager now to buy my dream,
this knife to me would be my fame
and envy of the paper team.
A handle made from sun bleached bone
and long sleek blade of finest steel
Its perfect balance weighted true
with leather sheath so smooth to feel.
There was one problem on my mind
that threatened my new Bowie knife,
my father banned these weapons then;
if caught I would be in some strife.
It’s then an idea came to pass
to bury it down by the vine,
away from all the prying eyes
I’d dig it up when it was time.
So later on I dug a hole
then making sure the depth was right,
I greased and wrapped my special knife
and buried it that fateful night.
You see there was another hitch,
for from the back yard we were barred,
as Dad was home now for the week
to clear and landscape the whole yard.
Five days had passed, now came the time
to resurrect my secret stash,
and show it off to all my mates,
when we would meet to count our cash.
But my excitement was short lived,
replaced by dread I can’t detach,
my father cut down that old vine
then mowed and top soiled that whole patch.
He also built a barricade
to keep us young ones off the grass,
there wasn’t much that I could do
for now another week would pass.
Because I buried my new knife
beneath the moonless pitch black sky,
I had no clue on where it was
and really felt like I could die.
I never found my treasured knife
it’s deep within my memory,
though, often I still think about
that piece of childhood history.
David J Delaney
23/08/2011 ©
