come to the laurel tree

Sit under the laurel tree, feel free to dream
of candy coloured toes and happy lil things.
Pull one out to suck – better, give them all away
for once pulled out, they’ll turn black anyway.

The idea’s strange, yes, like pigs eating ham
but darkness and light are bread
and I’m a walking jar of jam.

I love the whimsical, I love the macabre
and sandwiches needn’t any sort of stub.
So come sit with me, jam, butter and brie
we’ll have fun on our baked dough mats,
loafing under the tree.

Whee!