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Billy chased me round the playgroundwith hands full of fists
Billy yelled at me across the football pitchwith a mouth full of stings.
When they were young,She kept wicket for her brothers,They batted,Bowled,Padded upAnd ratcheted up the score.She crouched behind the stumpsKeeping wicket.
Miss Flotsam was my reception teacher.She had travelled the world.Brown hair turned goldenunder distant suns,clothes carrying coloursfrom countless corners of continents.
I was born with a map of Australia on my face;it was beautiful, my mother told me – there was nobody like me in the whole wide worldwho could trace the edges of down under