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Hummingbirdhummingbirdhumming a tune,happy in June(when flowersand roses bloom)sipping nectarits favourite food,loved also by bees.
See her moonlight
bloom from thick forest
leaving the ground
plucking words from the stars
half heather mosses
deep purple wherries
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
The Mac drinks tea
in a dragonfly mug.
On the library floor
is a dragonfly rug.
The door is covered
Let's go once upon a time.
Let's stroll, let's roll with rhythm 'n rhyme
Let's dress up in a riding hood.
Let's take that shortcut through the wood.
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 am the clash and collide of the starsbecause I create worlds.
I am the awareness of the treesbecause I hear the wind.
I am angry. really angry. angry,angry, angry. I'm so angryI'll jump up and down. I roll on the groundMake a din. Make you spinPull out my hair. Throw you in the air