by Demi Whitnell
Pne to Print Poetry Competition 2018/19 Runner-Up
My stumpy bearded boy who can play any song on guitar if you ask him to which will most likely end in the Mario theme tune. My country roads singing partner and the boy who taught me that the highest string is the lowest. The delicate hands of an artist boy who can make strings sing with melodies and models come to life from mere plastic. The hairy boy whose body is my temple and I’d love to climb all over his limbs to discover the hidden treasures that lie within. The man who can make a pun from anything and never ceases to make me curl up in laughter at my own stupidity. Ooo look at that Green door. Dungaree wearing. Hilbilly bango playing. Squeal like a pig kinda guy. The guy who calls me princess and isn’t afraid to watch a romance film, on his own with his mum, and cry his eyes out. Ode to you my stumpy country boy. Ode to all that you gave me within a short span of time which even if the songs begin to stop and I forget how to play a cord, whatever you gave me will stick to me like mud on a pig. Because I’m on that country road… and you’re taking me home.
Copyright Demi Whitnell 2019
The delicate hands of an artist boy who can make strings sing with melodies and models come to life from mere plastic.