childhood – Poetry for Dullards

Licks

In the middle of Frogmore Street a little boy about four years old stands crying. Forlornly holding an empty wafer cornet in his tightly clenched hand. Clumps of tears descending his cheeks; he wails and he stares deflatedly at the two lumps of defrosting vanilla soft scoop as they relax all over the adjacent pavingContinue reading “Licks”

Fish and Chips

I can’t be arsed to cook tonight so we’re off to the Chippy for tea With our busy weekend schedule It’ll make an easier end to Saturday We’ll order all the usual things Fish, chips and curry sauce Then receive back wrapped in paper At a quite nominal cost A stroll along the promenade AContinue reading “Fish and Chips”