Packing Scotland (Mrs Carmichael – P5 Class Poem)

 

 

She can’t take her family

in the suitcase, or her house.

She can’t bring her best

TV programmes, her favourite

oak tree at St Leonard’s, or

her school, but she is tempted

to bring her cacti. She can’t bring

her pet bluebird Snowball,

that chirps like Pikachu

in the mornings. She’ll miss

the haggis on Burn’s Night

and Irn Bru the colour of oranges.

She can’t pack the hailstones

from a cold February morning,

or any of the weather, the salty smell

of sea like fresh fish, or the way

the waves crash against the rocks.

She wishes she could take the smell

of black pudding from her father’s

Sunday morning fry-up.

She can take a thistle, but not

her whole garden; she brings

the seeds instead.