Poems

Poem

The building is white,
ivy eating its way up the broken walls,
windows small
and scratched.

Poem

Miss Flotsam was my reception teacher.
She had travelled the world.
Brown hair turned golden
under distant suns,
clothes carrying colours

Poem

We finished with a song on the football pitch
Singing all along on the football pitch 
Had a little sing with a sing-song-sing
Had a little fling with a ding-dong-ding

Poem

Why must we go to school, dad?
Tell us, dear daddy, do.
Give us your thoughts on this problem, please;
No one knows better than you.