Kiss

big wide eyes

storm grey

a frightened fawn running 

her arse sticking out

legs cart-wheeling,

what I remember most

apart from her beauty were

the heavily ink-stained fingers

that smelled of cold toast

and Marmite,

her sandals hardly touching the ground

as she galloped

across the quad,

I was entranced

without knowing why

as we boys gave chase

unsure who would be granted

the kiss.

*

© Graham Sherwood 10/2020