As
I look
on my childhood
a matter under bridge
now/ when I heard the jingle
of an ice-cream/ inviting all kid’s in
the neighbourhood to slurp something
sweet/my doleful iris glistened with dew
mum would drop silver coins into the
palm of my hand/then I’d scuttle
towards the ice-cream van wiping
the salty water on my face
devouring a scoop
of a vanilla ice
cream
melting
on my
tongue
like
butter
in
the
searing
sun.