Sunday, 1 March 2020

Bright Star

My boy isn’t made for these regimented straight lines,
grey conformity,
still unquestioning,
expected achievements and the world’s targets.

He’s made for buzzing and spinning,
fizzing thoughts, galloping stories.
The colours he loves are purple and rainbows and gold.
And he pushes, flying free,
burning,
a solitary bright star.

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