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A poem by Nia Prehaye

they were warm summers

the pretty red gingham dresses

would come out

or purple or pink or blue if you wanted to stand out

better than the rest

we would shout

tiny limbs getting slathered in suncream squirming

from the coldness whilst pulling

frilly socks up to the ankles

playing on the climbing frame in the pretty

summer uniform

with sheer concentration not to fall into the lava

red lorry yellow lorry

finishing the school day with grazed elbows and knees

clapping hands in pairs in rhythmic sing song

giggling with glee.