the poppies climb the walls.
Found slippers in a dustbin and sat ourselves
on steps of someone else's house.
You told me about the fair girl, running,
haring out the village woods. She'd
made you want to bend one knee.
Run home, and quiff your hair up
by spitting on your muddy palm.
[tag word: RETURN - @BarnyBoatman]
--100 Poem Challenge: writing 100 poems in a weekend to raise money for EEC International.