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Playtime was.

Playtime was

tree swings hung off brittle branches
cordial drunk on wooden verandahs
finger painting in the dirt 
dressing up and stealing mum's skirt
chasing each other around in circles
love-hearts drawn in glittered journals
barefeet dancing on northern soil
party hats made from paper and tin foil
bedtime led by loving hands
all tucked in and off to faraway lands 

by Charlotte Grant


Charlotte's poem is featured in our Summer Zine #6 (free with every order in Summer), in response to the topic "play". 
Follow Charlotte on IG here.