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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.

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