Poetry

Playing With Food

It’s like eating whipped cream

But not cold from the fridge

Its that feeling in your tum

As the car jumps the bridge

It feels like warm chocolate

As runs down your lips

Silky like lingerie

As it slides from your hips

I want to be a cookery book

And open up to be read

I’ll do the meal

If you will dip your bread!

I love to eat with my fingers

And taste the final results

A fizz and tingle

Like barley and the malt

Smooth as red wine

How well it goes down

Full of fruity body

The removing of a gown

Lay out the meal

Warm up my hands

Who needs heat or indeed any pans?

I’m hungry now my love

For something sweet and slow

My meal is almost ready

Its juices will flow

Hold on its coming

I’ve no need to dream

My favourite sweet of all

Luscious whipped cream