Little spring-lamb...

I remember being a new-born lamb          
kicking my heels high, high, with joyful bleats,          
bah, bahing, at tuts and frowns from my dam          
needing me to hide mid the bleating sheep.          
         
But I sought answers, chewed the hows and whys,          
among the grass-nibbling, nose-down, docile flock          
my eyes searched for fields higher in the sky          
where grass must be greener but, just got mocked...          
         
Time passed and winds blew a sense of unease          
old ones seemed to roam off, new ones were born,          
but I knew my ma's love would never cease          
I turn to her for comfort but, she's gone.        
         
Ma! Ma! I had a Ma!  I bleat,  I did!          
Nose down, I search cropped grass for where she's hid...
 
 
I started a hard hitting political satire, as we do,
using sheep as illustration but my pen turned left. They do that, sometimes.