I grew up there,
so how can I restrain
the rapturous impulse buy?
In the bag, the jar rolls,
the contents move
to coat the inner lid.
I run my finger round, and lick.
I say out loud. 'Now that's honey!'
Submitted for dVerse Meeting the Bar: Symbolism
These poems are works in progress, and may be subject to revision without notice. Completed versions appear in my books. Nevertheless copyright applies to all texts found here.