My friends keep inspiring little creative flares at the moment, and of all of them this is what I like best so far. Critique craved like crazy - I've been distracted by exams far too much lately.
As an idiot child at school
With my uniformed idiot chums
We’d hold a buttercup
In small fat fingers and thumbs.
The law we’d claim was that the yellow colour
If it reflected under her wrist
Meant that Jodie was actually telling the truth
About whatever pop-star she’d kissed.
I’ve outgrown those years like the uniforms
Now buried somewhere up in the dark attic.
Kissing still occurs, but the lies involved
Are potentially more problematic.
Days now I fear for my impatience, your reply
When to you I’ve been far less than kind.
But your fingers I feel have now grown long and strong
And with mine remain happily intertwined
For you’re that one buttercup and I’m seeing
From your thoughtlessly cast hue
Today confirms something in me as being
Still golden, and still true.