Poetrip

My mind is roaming rhythmically to where the orange trees
have orange leaves and I can see the orange raindrops fall
yet miss a small and dainty orange miss who sits beneath
an orange tree beside the orange water and she wears
a smiling wreath of orange teeth from orange crocodiles
arranged in single file with toothless smiles and orange eyes
reflecting on the orange water staring listlessly
and wistfully upon the orange miss who first unwraps
then bites a crunchy toffee apple most insouciantly.
 
Her mind meanders aimlessly to where the lemon land
erodes to bays of lemon sand that stretch out to the sea
of lemonade that feeds the fountains on the promenade
where carefree kids are licking sticks of lemon tooth-rot rock
and munching lemon candy floss or eating fish and chips
while granddads sit upon their lemon deckchairs in the rain
as nans remain on plastic lemon stools in bingo halls
then hearing calls from  kids with lemon buckets filled with crabs
a boy appears in tears - his thumb resemblant of a plum.


Jonathan Mackenzie

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