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Aug 8
She doesn’t know what she will find
As she leaves the grownup world behind
No words to express the thrill of chasing dragonflies
Grabbing shoots of grass, plucking daisies from their beds
Stumbling over grassy mounds on and on she goes,
Happiness running through her fingers, tingling in her toes
Crimson poppies are giants standing guard
The field is full of stones, the earth is very hard
A butterfly flutters by almost landing on her head
She tries to catch it in her arms, falling down instead
There’s no-one to catch her; big tears form in her eyes
The world’s a lonely place, no more will she roam
Her name is called;  a gentle voice that feels like home
She runs to her mother and the safety that she brings
Cuddled wrapped in love, lulled to sleep by lullabies
Dreaming of her secret world, touched by faery wings
Written by
Sheila Haskins  F/Suffolk England
(F/Suffolk England)   
62
     Rob Rutledge, ap, Brett and Imran Islam
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