There was something I found,
in a black book full of soft white pages.
Poised to be defaced, to be drawn on
I found this written; ‘girl on a string’
I wonder about the girl on a string.
It was not written girl with a string.
No dog had been freed, no rope had been jumped
no toy had been lost, no conker thumped.
In my mind’s eye, I saw her by the sea
she bent to her knee and untied the knot,
the string fell surrendering its bond
and lay silent and shapeless in the sand.