We were free there, 

free as the nettles 

to roam and spread 

and possess 

as if it was ours by right. 

 

We crawled through grasses 

that swayed over our heads 

hunting for caterpillars 

and frogs 

in the wild mint 

 

We lounged cross-legged 

searching the leaves 

of clover for a lucky one, 

or wriggled on our bellies 

watching snails. 

We lay like leverets

warm and safe

in our nests

as the seed-heads moved quietly

in the wind

 

We were not missed 

until it grew dark 

and our spaghetti hoops 

were slimy and cold

on limp buttered toast.