© Museum of Childhood, Edinburgh
‘Clickity clack’ is the soft soundtrack to her secret;
the humble hiss of gas streetlamps drifting through the widow, her concerto.
Shrouded in shadows, tirelessly she works.
The snug bed recess a nemesis of temptation;
soundly sleeping sisters a thoughtless jeer.
Come Christmas her hardships reap rewards: a pixie hat and victory.
She wears her arduously won censored colour;
Mother’s summer ultimatum, shredded by defiance.