Poems

Poem

Five children clasping mittens
could not hug the entire trunk.
Whole hands could hide in the folds of its bark.
James, the tallest boy in class,
could sit on a root,

Poem

It's five past three.
Sixty-four eyes look at me.
No. Sixty-two.
Not Matthew.
He hasn't learnt to read my face.
He's got digital. A disgrace!

Poem

Guess what, Thinker?

Tomorrow is Pets' Day at school,

and you can go.

You won't be the only one,

we're going to have a lot 

of fun.

You won't talk,