The Stream

Abi lofthouse
Abi Lofthouse

Scan10-07-19 1809Through my fingers, a thousand tiny ribbons flow
I stretch to feel the rushing water,
as it dances over the pebbles below.

Carelessly, it weaves in and out of the elegant wood.
It doesn’t know what it’s missing,
like a child up to no good.

I crave to play in the water, so soothing against my skin.
It’s calling my name.
It’s telling me to come in.

Abi Lofthouse
John Lofthouse

But Mum told me not to. “It’s December in Yorkshire, you’ll freeze!”
Rules are made to be broken,
as every child of five would agree.

I jump into the clear water and land knee-deep.
I regret it, instantly, as icy water fills my wellies.
“I want to go home!” I moan through chattering teeth.

I squelch towards my family, who are sat nearby.
They don’t look too happy.
I try to escape a smacked bum with puppy dog eyes.

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