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.

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