Two would-be explorers,

stride hand in giant-hand through

skinny grasses of our woodland.


It’s not our woodland,

but we pretend it is;

you are the hero and I am your sidekick.


We stalk imprinted mud,

the deer in the meadow, and once

mistakenly, an adder.


With nets I’d catch butterflies

so you could say who they were,

until you gave me a book.


The memories of us swigging tea

on the green-smelling lawn

were beginning to yellow,


as blonde as my long hair,

that you liked to stroke

whilst Heart-Beat flickered over us.


I’ve cut off my hair.

Because you are not a hero,

so I am no longer your sidekick…