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Easter 2013<\/strong><\/p>\n …and off we went to Burnham-on-Sea, Oh! I held your hand and Our Wotsits were contraband, We left the bag half-eaten: <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Deborah McClean<\/strong> is an Irish poet living in Bristol. By day, she educates the masses and by night, she weaves her experiences into words. She lives in a house, with a garden and a husband.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Easter 2013 …and off we went to Burnham-on-Sea, creeping into the first gaze of the new icy sun. Oh! I held your hand and kissed your lips through supermarket sandwiches. Our newborn skin screamed against the minty sky; blue raincoats wilting under this thin new light. Our Wotsits were contraband, crushed as […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6855","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6855","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6855"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6855\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6858,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6855\/revisions\/6858"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6855"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6855"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6855"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\ncreeping into the first gaze of the new icy sun.<\/p>\n
\nkissed your lips through supermarket sandwiches.
\nOur newborn skin screamed against the minty sky;
\nblue raincoats wilting under this thin new light.<\/p>\n
\ncrushed as spitfires circled overhead,
\nscreeching their yellow beaked orders;
\ntheir silky shadows licked the trodden grey stones and us.<\/p>\n
\nthe last day of Easter
\nbut yet
\nwe walk and love like it is the beginning.<\/p>\n