My Brother's Swing

It only takes a fight for me to go off screaming.
I say I hate my brother.
When actually he’s quite nice.
I walk down the path muttering to myself.
The scent of grass fills the air.
I cling on to the rope.

Up I go. On top of mum’s flowers.
I climb up up up
and swing into the irises
kicking down to the lavender.
I say I hate my brother although
he plays with me.
The dust fills the air.
It makes me happy to be in this place!!
I try counting the frog hoppers.
I think there’s sixteen altogether.
I go in and make up.

Brindley O'Connell (aged 8)