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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 Harry went awayhe stole a part of Mum.No-one warned us. No-one said.We looked and looked for ages –
The biggest berries are in the centreof a tunnel of thorny bushes.A shark gaping wide,promising not to nip.
It's New Year, 1979, at Funderland in the RDS in Dublin. In the cold calculation of the January air, a young girl tries to talk
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!I reach to ten.
The building is white,ivy eating its way up the broken walls,windows smalland scratched.
The walls of the room are white and clean -all sign's of yesterdays sorrows scrubbedaway with bleach.
I like to stay upand listenwhen big people talkingjumbie stories
I does feelso tingly and excitedinside me
She is not here.Not beside me in bednor in the roomat all.
It has happened
Once everything was bigand you were small,but year after year your shadow crept up the wall and you grew tall.
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