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Yellow and white, I hide from sight in grass my leaf
But greet the trampling feet with no complaint,
Or plucking hand of unrestraint;
It is no shame to yield my face to childhood's game:
“Love me? Love me not?”
Shaw's Corner poetry workshop,
It was a hot Saturday in the school holidays, way way back when the children were amenable to the sorts of activity ideas that I found fun and hoped they would too (but come teenage would be greeted with less positivity) ... we cycled up to Ayot St Lawrence to attend this workshop in the gardens of George Bernard Shaw. It was very well run, very under-supported, but memorable for all of us (and if the boys let me I might post their poems too); for me, the invitation to stop and look around me, and write something about that very moment, was unaccustomed and a bit sicky-excited-scary, but the result pleased me considerably - and still does!
It's a riddle, I guess.
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