I always enjoyed my Dorset summers

As I could spend time with my cousin Wyn

She was a gentle free spirit of a girl

With cascades of flaxen hair

We would camp within view of her cottage

And swim in the shallows of the meandering Tye

Daisy Chains were her passion

Each longer than the last

We climbed trees and dared each to fall

And watched the distant storms

Roll over the Derwent Hills



I found this unfinished poem in a book recently purchased