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Niamh and her teddy love time in the park, cartwheels and cuddles and feasts in the dark. With one missing eye and a scratchy black nose, some soft matted fur beneath old knitted clothes, adventures have left him a bit worse for wear,
So that’s why he’s known as…
Can’t see what I’ve drawn as I’m sat in the sun but thought I should cheer my sad scribble up.
Across the beach and swaying reeds they dance upon the heather.
They laugh and sing their way along, small hands held tight together,
Their hopeful whispers float up high and set the world alight.
‘We are the best of friends,’ they say into the starry night.
Amongst the wild flowers and tiny toadstools a little girl was playing.