Cold metal on skin;
I lean in and partake
in a shuffled, incessant dance
that soothes me.
My liquorice is a thrumming
bag of endeavour
that I share gladly.
Make me well!
Make me sweet!
Over-sugared,
a frown attests,
and I prefer the
vibrant red to the black;
these garner more frowns
and a tentative poke before I
depart.
I rummage fingers to
gather more bunches
of sweetness, for me and
all I know.
They yield mixed results.
Be sweet still, my love!
Handfuls replace handfuls
and we are on our way
as a bell chimes.

The superkings
and cherry bakewells
and knitting needles
and mischievous grins
and meringue
and cats that play
and Kinder Suprises
and leafy disguises
and words that just mattered
a smile that just flattered
a favourite chair
a Coronation Street blare
a toothless grin
a card game you’d always win
a laughter that bit
a razor sharp wit

a silence that hangs
a lacking of hands
a double take that’s not you
a lot still to do