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Where The Bunnies Are
This is a short poem, which I wrote for my mum when she was alive.
From somewhere in her past she had the first line in her head, but after extensive research, I couldn’t find anything with that line in it, so I started with that first line and wrote the poem myself.
It combines memories from her childhood and mine in Baslow where there was a field up the road which we called "the Bunny Bank" because there were always lots of rabbits playing in the briars there.
Mum loved this poem, in fact it was one of two poems that I read at her funeral last
October and looking back, was a catalyst to getting me writing again.
So, as I say, the first line isn’t mine, but the rest is and if anyone knows where the original can be found, I would love to hear.
If you like my work, please support me through Buy Me a Coffee!
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By Allison PenningtonThis is a short poem, which I wrote for my mum when she was alive.
From somewhere in her past she had the first line in her head, but after extensive research, I couldn’t find anything with that line in it, so I started with that first line and wrote the poem myself.
It combines memories from her childhood and mine in Baslow where there was a field up the road which we called "the Bunny Bank" because there were always lots of rabbits playing in the briars there.
Mum loved this poem, in fact it was one of two poems that I read at her funeral last
October and looking back, was a catalyst to getting me writing again.
So, as I say, the first line isn’t mine, but the rest is and if anyone knows where the original can be found, I would love to hear.
If you like my work, please support me through Buy Me a Coffee!