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