The Girl
I'm sorry mummy don't cry!Look! The mud only goes this high and
I'm sure that's only half way up.
I asked you not to dress me in this
Daughter thing and by the way
Why do we have to go to this wedding?
I've told you I am not a girl
In need of dolls or prams and
These silly frills are hateful...
Can I please put my jeans and wellies on?
The newts are out and need jam-jarring
And if you would call me Jack I'd be greatful.
I might be your little girl one day mummy-
But not till that big tree is climbed.
Poetry by jenks
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Written on 2010-10-18 at 17:01
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