We were two kids
kicking bricks
as our legs
hit the wall

I never thought we'd
grow up

we were Peter Pan
and Tinkerbell

dressed in greens
of different shades

dressing up
meant nothing
back then

becoming someone else
was easy

now we no longer fight
over who gets to
pick first

from the wooden chest
of characters in the attic
of my Mum's house

(with the big yellow
kitchen that smiled
like the face of a
'well done' sticker)

we only kiss when
the kids are
watching

a peck on the cheek
that hurts as much
as the time I
broke my arm
with you

I like to think
that it's you that's
grown out of
loving me

(the way that you
grew out of your
shoes between
school terms)

but that's
too kind