So here's a tiny little poem about how most of us probably felt about having to share treats when we were little. 

You can have half-each.
OH.
Inside I would quietly die. 
Half was never enough. 
For a growing girl like me. 


K M Pearce, Nurturing the Roots

Just spent a lovely relaxing Father's Day lunch with my Dad and family. We discussed lots of memories, some of which, I'd not heard before. So I chose this as my Poem of the Day because in it I tried to encapsulate some of the wonderful mixed-up-edness of being a kid.

Chicken! We would shout.
If you didn't race across the road.
When everyone else did. 
We stood, gasping for glory.
At our outstanding bravery,
From the other side, we would laugh.
At the 'fraidy cats.
But then they would cross.
The empty road.
Sauntering and smiling.
We pretended not to notice.
As the revelling quietly subsided. 

KM Pearce, Nurturing the Roots

This was one of my earliest memories...so I wrote a poem about it. The poem is entitled Arson Snuffed Out, as I like to think the experience scared me off becoming one.

We had a beagle named Trigger.
When I was a little girl.
He curled up in my Dad’s work van.
Like a black, white and gold pastry.
One day, bored, I lit a match.
The flame roared quietly.
I was in trouble.
I snuffed it out beside his fur.
And waited for the howl.
He snored on.
I was reprieved.
But I never forgot.

K M Pearce, Nurturing the Roots