Little Girls

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Little girls, little girls,
Made from all things nice, we’re told.
Emotions often uncontrolled.
Pink and sparkly,
Often arty.

Sugar and spice,
Girls cost a price,
Meek and mild,
A well-behaved schoolchild.

Fairy tales and dress up,
Make believe and make up,
Ponytails and polkadots
Plays mummies with a dolly cot.

Maybe they are, maybe they’re not.
But if this all you see
Then you’re missing a lot.

Little girls, little girls, 
Confident and courageous,
Determination that’s contagious,
If self-belief is encouraged
You will always see them flourish.

Tender heart but robust
Someone you can always trust.
Logic when the world’s absurd.
Her sense of justice undeterred.

Intelligent, a top tree climber
Don’t ever let the world define her,
She can do it on her own,
With vision and grace to be shown.

Copyright  © Sophie Harrington (2016)

Also read Little Boys or try Slow Down

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Back to School

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Shiny shoes, snack box,
Water bottles, black socks.
Name labels, PE kit,
Let’s try to remember it.

Alarm set, early night,
Avoid the usual sibling fight.
Toilet visits, one more kiss,
Does every child do this?

Next morning, not a peep,
It’s like they’re catching up on sleep.
Wake them up, make them eat,
While you find the luncheon meat.

Cheese will do, let’s get dressed,
One of them will protest.
Brush your teeth, I’ll plait your hair,
Being this organised is rare.

Grab your book bag, pencil case,
Pose for a photo by the fireplace.
Let’s go now and avoid the scramble,
We’ll actually catch the first day preamble.

You’ve lost a brand new shoe?
And you need a poo?
Well, I suppose this is nothing new.

Out the door, in the car,
But, of course, we don’t get far.
PE kit and recorder,
Left behind in our disorder.

Arrive at school, a little late,
Remember to be a good classmate.
Try your best, always be kind,
And I’ll go to work to unwind.

Copyright  © Sophie Harrington (2016)

Visit here to read  more of my poems

Birth of a Naturalist

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No amount of scrubbing

Will clean these grubby nails.

These small hands keep scrabbling

At rocks, all kinds of shale.

 

Tiny digits seeking out

Any kind of critter.

Lifting up the stones to scout

Before they reconsider.

 

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They scatter as light invades

Their community disturbed.

Futile efforts to barricade

Are nearly always curbed.

 

He deftly scoops the woodlice

As they start to flee.

Tweezer fingers so precise

When he wants them to be.

 

If he could handle a pencil

With such dexterity

There wouldn’t be the immense hill

He seeks for scholastic clarity.

 

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If this could be his classroom

How happy he would be.

We count the flowers in bloom

And use chalk rocks for literacy.

 

Your gentle love of nature

And wonder at the earth

Makes you my personal teacher

And reminds me of all it’s worth.

 

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So let’s explore the garden,

And play amongst the leaves,

Because as you grow, you’ll harden

To all a five-year-old perceives.

 

Copyright  © Sophie Harrington (2016)

Try Sophie Harrington poems for parents? – Read Slow Down or Little Boys or Little Girls