By Jackie Kay

Location: Cambridge

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Abdullah likes this poem

That is shy to be read.

He watched it open its paper wings

And spin, landing on his head.

Abdullah buried his head in his hands,

But still the poem fluttered like a butterfly

Across his ears, in front of his dark eyes.

Around the room Abdullah was in.

By now Abdullah had fallen in

Love with words, with birds that are poems

And poems that are birds – and so

The little poem flew anew blushing, singing.