A little girl splashing in the rain
Among cesspools and fantasy green
Kicking up the moss, ferns, dogshit
Soiling her unspoiled baby shoes
Mummy can't grab hold of her
Her arms are tiny ***** of light
She thrives on carrot mush and mischief

Fox **** can't throw her off
It's a fresh scent, her button nose
Doesn't yet crinkle; sour is captivating
She doesn't know there are homeless men
She's stamping on the mulch
The fairies nip at her ankles, they'll sew
Her a twiggy crown for her damp curls

Later, a pebble, chiselled, bitter,
Thrown vindictively from a high-rise window
Will try to knock it down
She'll learn about money and hate
And scream at the rain
Like she's trying to lacerate it
Maybe she'll watch it bleed

Someone will break her heart and nobody
Will be there to make it right
Apart from maybe a smelly poet
Eating a takeaway dinner
A few decades away in a stinking room
Probably boozed up

A little girl splashing in the dogshit
Unaware of gypsies, robbers, death
And me just stood there trembling
Thinking lucky,
Lucky her.