Four Years Old, by Lucy Marsh

“Look!” he says, hopping

from foot to foot like the bird

who left secret footprints

in the snow last night.

Frozen spider webs

strung with pearls of frost,

twinkle in the sunlight.

He crunches in green wellies

and falls onto his back,

starfish limbs making snow bats.

Twirling flakes melt on his dark lashes

and he giggles, his smile as wide

as his powdery wings.

The world is white, untrodden.

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One Comment on “Four Years Old, by Lucy Marsh”


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