"Taking The Biscuit"

I honestly can't recall
How old I was,
Make that how young.
Seven, eight or nine?
Even then I was weird/lonely
With no real friends.
No change there then.
I can't remember
What day of the week it was
But I won't forget
The dustbin.
From Champion Hill
To the Walworth Road
That was a fair old trek
For my little legs.
Why was I there?
Who knows? Memory's gone.
Not a clue. Long time ago.
But I won't forget that litter bin
On the lampost
By the bus stops.
Practically full it was
Almost overflowing.
and there on the top
Was a packet of brand new
Biscuits, as good as new
Almost full.
No money for sweets.
Eyes to the left, glance to the right
Nobody I knew in my sight.
Distinctly remember excitement and fear
Hoping that no neighbours were near
Quick! arm moving in for the catch
Those biccies were mine to snatch.
Ready to run down the road
Then came the "Ooh! Poor thing!"
Caught in the act by two old grannies
A baby rabbit in their headlights.
Looking at them face on.
Even then a little child
I could be strange and rather wild
Slowly delicately, deliberately
Ripped off the wrapper
And scoffed one after another.
"Ooh, that's terrible, where's his mother?"
Was my cue to have another.
Back in those days
It was shame not blame.
No social services
No mobile phones to make a call
So Childline was pointless
Even if Jimmy's friend
Auntie Esther had thought of it back then
As she would have seen nothing.
I looked then right in the eye
And decided to give them some proper
To gossip about; real food for thought
Short and sweet
"My mum doesn't feed me"
And left as their tongues
Wagged in overdrive
As I began my journey home
To my loving mum
As my dinner
Would be on the table soon.
I can't recall if my dad
Brought any cream cakes home from work.
I liked them, as I liked myself.
Naughty but nice.

Dulwich Poet 24th June 2013

( A memory from my childhood, I was alone down the Walworth Road, and I found and ate a packet of biscuits, on top of a dustbin. )