Salt Marsh Fields
Lavender
Lilac and forget
Me not blue
A blustery breeze
Be blowing but true
Butterflies buckets
And spades
Pon my word
My fine friend
Were those not
The days
Golden
And carefree
Sun downwardly
Beating
Cuckoo’s a coo kin
And spring
Lambs a bleating
In salt marsh
Fields silvered
Where we once
Shared our first kiss
Aye there
Where a handful of
Poppies provided
A pillow and
Wild garlic grew
In disorganised rows
Tis where we oft
Enjoyed picnics and always
Had daisies n sand tween
Each of our
Perfect pink toes