The soft brush of grass on the skin
As I crawl along the soil-top
I used to lie in the gutter when it rained
Rolling in the murky filth and laughing
Pillbugs on the creaky wooden steps
A half-finished tree house
(More like a tree platform)
And the first dog we ever had falling down the stairs

I used to fall down too, and once
Collapsed and laid my hand to rest
On the back of a gargantuan slug
Which had wriggled its way inside.
They were always getting in, in those days.