A letter thrust into teenage hands
Unwilling to take any casual blame
The writing neat but almost Greek
I still struggle to read the name.
Flabbergasted, I slowly realised
Trembling under the sudden onslaught.
It was a love letter from the school wrestler
The shock arrested my carefree thoughts.
The grass was green, the cows content
Yet a hungry one sauntered near the cycle shed
before I could act, a long, rasping tongue wrapped
and swallowed my first love letter, still unread.
The decision taken for me by the grazing angel
to let childhood linger for a longer page
Yet I wonder what if he had written in English
not in my ‘consistently failing’ third language.