I Would Take.

By Isobel H EPPSA

I would take a shiny, golden, leather glove to climb up walls with.

I would take a reddish-pink, toxic balloon that I can touch creepy things with and they will all go away.

I would take a large, jam jar full of glowing, green fireflies to light the way.

I would take a tea-stained, crumpled map to see where I was heading to.

I would take a brown, leather diary and pen to write down all of the places I’ve been.

I would take a soft, snuggly teddy from my house so I feel at home and relaxed.

I would take a dreamy pot of gold from my hopes and happiness to wish me luck.

I would take a ceramic, beige shell from the beach so I know where my heart is.

I would take a bright, colourful, little budgie to make me laugh when he mimics me.

I would take a vivid blue, turquoise parachute to make me glide like an Eagle searching for its prey.

You Are by Isobel

You are a plump budgie as colourful as a vivid rainbow.

You are a microscopic field mouse who you can’t see scurrying across your creaking floorboards.

You are the smell of an elephant like stinky Stilton cheese.

You are a shimmering kite about to glide like a soaring albatross in the thermal waves of the wind.

You are a gooey, molten marshmallow melting every time you get dropped into a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

You are the taste of Neapolitan ice cream that’s coloured like pastel chalks.

You are the impossibility of boiling ice on an antique Aga stove.

You are a rectangular, red Lego brick as tough as a chiselled granite rock.

You are the distance between the starting line and the chequered flag.

You are the memory of my mum accidently dropping a whole, stuffed crust, four cheese pizza in the washing up bowl filled with hot soapy water.