I didn’t know that Cobbles were real!

She wobbled on the verge of the cobbles,

which appeared as if by surprise. Giggling 

she walked across the bumpy terrain

and balanced on her toes.


Looking up, she laughed to her Dada,

‘Cobbles!’ she laughed,’ not in a book

or on a film nor in Minecraft.

Cobbles!’ she shouted and tripping lightly, fell.


Collapsed on the unforgiving cobbles, tears of rage,

turning to sobs, as strong arms encircled

the grieving body, that had not bounced,

instead on those cobbles was bruised.


Restored confidence, by loves tender hugging,

she sprightly strode over the rounded lumps

and holding a hand lightly, advanced to 

the tightly packed tarmac.


Thinking herself safe she tried to let go

even as cars hurried by, grabbing but gently,

his voice called her, hands locked, 

his daughter safe from their threat.


Ambling on they came to the doors,

a place of  cheery fun , with slides

and cushioned ways, lights and ladders

child friendly and Dada relaxes.


There were tears and even bumps,

although softened surfaces and padded falls

there were slips but playing with balls and slides

tears dry fast amidst the fun.


Too soon going home she pouts and protests

and is reminded of the cobbles waiting;

and looking at them sees fun and smiles

at those lumpy forgiven cobbles.