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So I didn’t write this poem, one of my mums friends did. Sadly, they are no longer in contact and she can’t remember his name but he wrote this poem about/for me when I was about 1 and a half or so. Back when I lived in Manchester. 

Cheshire is a place in England for all those who don’t know

 

 

If the Cherub of Tuck

Could write a book

What a take to see

Flying  high on shoulders Bourne

Laughing in her glee

Glimpsing deer

With mother near

And longing for a drink

Making a fuss

Without a cuss

And eating with delight

No flower rejected

No grape neglected

In Mays sunlight

With cattle near

She showed no fear

By a lazy Cheshire Stream

Then off back home to dream

 

 

Tags: poetry

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