Oozing through the kitchen’s veins.
Salty, sweet. In shoogled glass
or skooshy plastic. Centrepiece
of every table. Meals rotate
like planets round your chemically
stable essence. Vying for
the nightly chance to bask amidst
your smothered kiss. From bolognaise
to fish and chips. Your touch unlocks
their finer tastes and grants all entry
to my lips. Sometimes, when I’m
feeling saucy, I’ll fill a tub
and spoon you like there’s no tomorrow.
Heaven, where tomatoes go.
Don Redwood 
Mind blowing creative
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Thanks Yassy!
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Welcome
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A jubilant, experimental of great collective words and imagery.
You Don, have created something that hits home.
I truly love what you’ve written here. Is this the poem you said you would write? Incredible work.
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Thanks Charlie! No this is one I wrote a couple of days ago. I’ll let you know when I have a go at pushing my experimental horizons!
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