It Never Came
I wrote a poem from my heart,
it tore my very soul apart.
I spoke of dreams so close to me,
a special higgidy quiche you see!
I published my opus to the site
hoping, one day, that I might;
see upon the shelves, a dish
containing yes: my special wish.
Ah the lady sung my praise
my head was swollen for some days.
For soon she said, will arrive,
an apron. Your very own Higgidy prize!
I’ve watched and waited now for days,
for the postie I fondly gaze;
and as I wait for my apron,
my chilli dream goes on and on!
(Just a tease, not neccessarily for publication)
Mike
