Enough of boats, now smoking,
those boys who kissed us, didn't care that we were only nine.
We learnt Cambridge on the back of a bicycle
and found it fit us and our red coats.
The city, not so silent, let our mother lie,
'the other side is not far!'
her illuminous hair and upthrown arms
upset the view.
We sat Pradesh next to Blackpool and planned the trip.
She packed us mint cake and eccles buns
set us off with your ballet shoes and my pencils,
'find your way back and then its home.'
Rachel, I bought a new red coat.
It suddenly occured to me,
it's not like leaving your handbag on the roof
and driving off.
She set children off like sirens,
she coloured us so we would know which way to go.
Those boats we burnt were only bathtubs.
I think I'm getting closer.