A day like this, maybe a few degrees below
A tower block kid treads tentatively,
She walks into the pages
Of a Dick King Smith story.
Scared, she sidles close to damp bricks
But extends a chubby palm to catch the rain,
She carefully takes one step forward
Into unfamiliar suburban terrain.
Struck by the sweet scent of garden shed
And surrounded by fresh garden smell,
The snails begin to mirror her
As they slowly come out of their shells.
* * *
For more work by Carly-Dee, check out her blog.