Black spot, red spot.

We didn't always live here, love,

when I was little we had another house.

In the garden there was a bush,

a lavender bush.

Every summer the bees came and

buzzed around the flowers,

and windows.

One year, I remember, the plants

turned red and black.

We thought they were dying, but

really, they were coated

in ladybugs. The little red dots swarmed 

all over the garden,

and I loved them for it.

I asked my mum if I could keep them,

and she said no. But you know me,

I don't listen to no. I stole a 

salad bowl and I filled it with bugs.

I hid them under the lavender bush, but

it rained that night.

The next morning I checked on my

bug-pot.

The lid wasn't enough to keep the rain out,

and my ladybirds had all drowned.

I never told my mum, 

because I knew she had been right.

I didn't care about the bugs who died,

I was young. I cared because 

I didn't have them anymore.