You’re not air.

You’re not just anywhere,

you’re THERE.

I suppose you might feel new with it,

wondering what you might do with it.

Those arms and legs

can be flung about.

You can walk

or run

or fall over

FLAT

which is, of course,

the problem with that.

You can breathe, you can gasp,

you can cough, sneeze or rasp.

You have fingers!

You can grasp!

And it’s all yours

to do what you want with,

to turn right round or

face the front with.

Or mostly yours,

though some of it belongs

to your mum and dad

to remind them of the bodies

they once had.

And yet it’s yours –

you’ll see it grow

though not so that

you ever know.

It’s fun, it’s great,

something you learn to operate.

Just pinch yourself and see.

Who is that? It’s YOU not me.

It’s yours to wear and yours to be.

And it comes free!

George Szirtes

Three Good Things

Three Good Things

At day’s end I remember

three good things.

Apples maybe – their skinshine smell

and soft froth of juice.

Water maybe – the pond in the park

dark and full of secret fish.

A mountain maybe – that I saw in a film,

or climbed last holiday,

and suddenly today it thundered up

into a playground game.

Or else an owl – I heard an owl today,

and I made bread.

My head is full of all these things,

it’s hard to choose just three.

I let remembering fill me up

with all good things

so that good things will overflow

into my sleeping self,

and in the morning

good things will be waiting

when I wake.

Jan Dean

The Cupboard

The Cupboard

I know a little cupboard,

With a teeny tiny key,

And there’s a jar of Lollipops

For me, me, me.

It has a little shelf, my dear,

As dark as dark can be,

And there’s a dish of Banbury Cakes

For me, me, me.

I have a small fat grandmamma,

With a very slippery knee,

And she’s Keeper of the Cupboard,

With the key, key, key

And when I’m very good, my dear,

As good as good can be,

There’s Banbury Cakes, and Lollipops

For me, me, me.

Walter de la Mare

BOY GIRL

Isn’t My Name Magical?

Isn’t My Name Magical?

Nobody can see my name on me.

My name is inside

and all over me, unseen

like other people also keep it.

Isn’t my name magic?

My name is mine only.

It tells I am individual,

the only special person it shakes

when I’m wanted.

If I’m with hundreds of people

and my name gets called,

my sound switches me on to answer

like it was my human electricity.

Isn’t that magical?