The Old Clubhouse
By Richard Mabey Jr.
O’ if the clock could just go back in time,
when Mad magazine was but a quarter,
and comic books were just a dime,
and Kool-Aid packets read “just add water.”
To return once more to the old backyard,
to see the glory of the old clubhouse.
Against its wall, we flipped baseball card,
and chased out that old field mouse.
Its walls were made of old wooden planks,
the angled roof was of shingle square.
Taking the change from our piggy banks,
we bought a lock, so no thief would dare.
To break in and steal our stuff,
for on the door read “KEEP OUT!”
We really thought that’d be enough,
to keep bullies from sneaking about.
With tears in my eyes, I realize,
it can never be again.
With solemn heart and heavy sighs,
to have one day, to once more be ten.