I wrote this sonnet on the first day of my summer holidays in 2010. I was out walking through the woods close to the sea in beautiful weather, and, inspired by nature and a sense of freedom, I composed a couple of lines of iambic pentameter. Then I got home and saw the photo of Lisa on the front page of a local newspaper. It made me very happy. Unreasonably so. My unconscious mind must have already made the connection to my musings. But it was only later, after I’d begun to work a bit on the lines I’d written, that I consciously realised I now had something concrete to work with.
The sonnet was soon posted on Esbjerg Gymnasium’s home page, and the recording was added in due course. Unfortunately, the sonnet was removed in a revamp of the home page at the end of 2013. I appealed to the Principal on several occasions, but he hasn’t responded. Which is a bit weird. But anyway, I’m putting it up here now and updating the various links to it on this site.
for Lisa Lind Dunbar
For me at least, you’ll always be the child
who hated school; now never to return.
No longer need you struggle in your seat;
you’re free to go; you’ll soon be running wild,
down to the sea, the sand beneath your feet,
no morons shouting: “Won’t you ever learn?”
I’ll miss your Scottish accent, miss your face,
miss your independent, plucky grace.
I yell: “Hey, Lisa! Leaving us for good?
You made it through! I always knew you would!
God tur! Have fun! Take care!” Defying care,
you climb King Christian’s horse on Esbjerg Square,
broad-grin at all the others fading fast,
then ride like hell into the distant past.