I like the wrinkles round my eyes
that crease up when I smile
I like my crazy curly hair
(although it’s taken a while)

I like picking a tune out on old keys
or strings or tin or wood
I’m finally realising that
it’s ok to say I’m good

I like my tiny little ears
and fill them up with jewels
I like making sparkly things
with hammers, saws and tools

I like that I read really fast
and think it’s kinda strange
But it’s really rather useful
to flick quickly through each page

I like my mixed up northern voice
from plains and dales and peaks
I like growing plants to eat
roots and spuds and leeks

I like that I’ve gone through lots of stuff
and still come out the end
And I like that I’ve sort of realised
to talk to myself like a friend.

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