Childhood Flash (part III) - The Castle

We were those who were wearing quadrilled shirts
with dirt in eyes,
and dust in mouth.
Emerged from depths and sludge, with spade and pecker.

And while digging for the evidence of past,
got scars on hands,
got nothing for strain.
A piece of bread, a wicker scrip, a pile of sand.

Later, climb the walls of brick, with handmade ropes,
to keep us tight,
to keep us on.
Closer to the gypsy land, hungry for illusion.

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