Love is a many splendoured thing – or a bunch of ……

they’re little colured pills
that promise all your ills
will soon be sent away

they taste good on your lips
and feel bad on your hips
but we swallow anyway

in a packet
or a bucket
by the hand
or by the bowl
we open wide
throw them inside
and munch, and crunch, and groan

oh, chocolate, how I love you
your praises I shall sing
your brown and gooey gloriousness
so much pleasure to me brings.

© ceenoa 2/5/2014