When, back in our rapt scallion salad days,
Two young high-sprung microwave singletons
Cloyless palette’s so consumed by beauty’s glaze
We’d not carve as tear apart tender heart
Gluttons-caught in some other's desired gaze.
Then, one mouth-wateringly feted day
Fates chef served to plate us together
But deserting me, you would not stay
And, sat sipping the one cafe au lait
I knew such heart burn, no desert might allay.
When next we met 'neath mock-flock wallpaper
Decorous haunt and local restauraunt
Your 'Poppadom Preach' sung to the waiter
Brought me such salve and Angelic Delight
Left me to savour love's sweet second bite!