by Marie Moorman
“At the cafe, cyclists in Lycra dismount and toddle
with nappy gait to queue for tea and cake.
Through the Box trees, hand in hand, we walk
past the Major, head down in the chalk.
We roll down the hill, tumbling,
bumping over hummocks of grass,
we blink as the bright gorse flashes by,
shrieking with laughter. Grass. Sky. Grass. Sky.
As I rub a mark of ice-cream from your chin
you smile and say ‘We’re too old for this lark’.
Fingertips touching, we lie, eyes closed to the sun,
time drifts with the clouds and we dream as one .”
Thank you to Surrey resident, Marie Moorman for her poem.
If you’re not already a member of Surrey Libraries you can join today and help yourself to a Box Hill card.