Our Kingdom

Trace the paths
with your fingertips
see where they disappear
into nothing, hedges
and secret places.

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See where our world
begins and ends
stays within the hedgerows
that border this kingdom,
a land of make-believe.

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See where the grass
dips, where the banks
roll away and the daffodils
bloom, where we lie
under the blossom tree.

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See where we grow
like flowers blooming
in the wild, secret, protected
and rooted in the soil,
the fabric of this place.

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The Butterfly

The butterfly’s wings beat gentle
as it settles brown wings
onto the flowers I carry.
It stays as I walk
down the twisting pathway
towards you. It flutters
away before we get there
but through it, I feel you with me.

You are there again on a Cornish hillside
in late January sunshine
unexpected, but beating your brown
wings, sunbathing in the rays
you dance around us, to let us know
that you are there with us
before vanishing into the hedgerow.

I see you again closer to home
on a scorching summer’s day
you fly in to check up on us
lazily circling around
in the heat and I watch
you rise and dive
among the bright flowers
that still thrive
despite the fierce, blazing sun
and the wily hands of time and neglect.