Ode To A Chocolate OrangeShall I compare thee to a summer’s day? (A British one so you wouldn’t melt) For you are the echo of my dreams, my sweet, fulfilling love!
The cold crisp mornings of my youth were tinged with your smell, as the sugarbeat was processed ready for you. And oh those great factories battling with Medieval towers to dominate the skyline, Victorian powerhouses creating you in all your glory!
And then we worked there, the people of my town – out of the slums and onto the production line. Remember the factory shop – how could any of your sweetness be ‘waste’. Huge bags for 20 pence (due to wild variations in the global financial climate this is difficult to translate into US dollars but I believe its about 15 cents give or take)
Now you comfort me in my hours of darkness, a rare lover and none so loyal.
For you I would travel all the way to the corner shop and back.
For you I would cycle and climb, punch and kick, run and dance and even burlesque (if you asked nicely), mainly so you didn’t turn me into a blob.
For your possibilities are endless dearest of friends, and you remain my one true love (except for wine and cider – I really love them too – sorry bit of a tart)