- Vol. 05
I won't tell you not to jump in puddles as I warm your feet, and you watch them lull your pale dozing fish, dreaming of where they swam and I know you'll sail far but I'll hold you whilst I can whilst you're still lost in the magic of your own skin. I wish I'd had more river days hair unbound, silty toes, stalking minnows- whilst brothers bawled at home, 'til they grew tall and hauled me down just as I caught the breeze- for there was butter to churn and tears to mend, for they never needed grace and we needed work for our idle idle hands. So I ask you to jump in puddles, swing on gates, take the neighbour's bike and peddle till the wind lifts your hair.