Butterflies

She has said,

let’s go away,

just for a while.

She has enough money.

I can’t tell Father,

he’ll have stuff to spout.

So it’s a biology field trip.

We decide on the sea,

a sort of last century hotel

with a crumbly charm.

The intercity bus,

it’s WiFi not working,

takes forever. I am nervous.

We look out of the bus windows

at orchards passing,

at the chalky downs rolling by,

and feel butterflies.

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