I was child and played on the harbour quay
of a foreign town where people were poor.
A boy showed up, we had no words to say
but he signed that we should go for a tour.
Climbing a China clay road with this stranger
from the cliff I could see our ship in port,
above us sea birds that spoke of danger,
there were some ruins of an ancient ford.
We watched the water slowly serpentine,
beneath us all looked pleasant, greenish land
that we pretended was now his and mine.
I didn’t know him, yet he took my hand.
We were a princess and an Ivanhoe
and now and then he was a cowboy too.
We played without much talk but with much show.
He took me back when he thought I was due.
I made a friend that day when I was five,
a boy named Sidney showed me where to play,
a memory I want to keep for life,
of when the world was safe. A golden day.