I love the grasses in this place-
They grow up higher than my face.
I love the sky behind the treeline
And the bay when the tide is in.
A dog came up and licked my cheek once!
Usually they make a beeline
For the sea, jump in and swim.
I climb the hills in summer season,
Teeter where the ground’s uneven
As my feet go opposite ways.
I quickly jump onto the track.
In summer it’s too overgrown
To cut across there anyway.
Even in spring I must turn back.
I love to lie here when it’s sunny;
Want to get a tan like honey,
But I put on too much cream.
I’m too afraid of getting burned,
And so my skin remains quite pale.
My ideas too are all a dream:
Impractical, not baked or turned.