In the spring the rolling fields
filled with lambs and daffodils
resemble the vibrant green of an apple.
Sitting in the garden
picking all the green apples off the groundç
basking in the sun having fun.
Some peel them
some like them cut
some like them green, some like red
but as for me I don’t mind
so many different kinds.
Clore Poetry and Literature Award, St Benet Biscop School Bedlington