Forbidden fruit

Forbidden fruit

Day 13: There’s a pithy phrase attributed to T.S. Eliot: “Good poets borrow; great poets steal."  Today's challenge is to write a non-apology for the things you’ve stolen in your life. This has turned into more of a confession! 
It began with Rich Tea biscuits
Taken in secret from the green barrel
On my auntie's dining room sideboard,
The grown ups talking endlessly
About nothing, in the front room.
There was an art to it - the lid popped gently
As its vacuum seal was broken.
The biscuits could knock against each other, 
Or the sides of the tin, if I wasn't careful.
The slow crunch of the first tentative bite
Then careful chewing, swallowing,
Brushing away telltale crumbs from mouth and jumper, 
The silent replacement of the lid,
The nonchalant return a few moments later, 
All added to the exhilaration. 

All my life I've craved biscuits
Those small round crunchy parcels of joy,
Off limits to someone 'always on a diet'
Forbidden fruits once prediabetic.
From time to time I'd buy them on the sly
Stash my booty out of sight, then
Steal away into the kitchen
Pop a sneaky one in my mouth,
Gobbling down its crunchy sweetness
Before anyone appeared.

Even now, when I've given up dieting
(In favour of healthy eating)
I still pinch the odd one when no-one's looking.
Such a shame to deny myself
The public pleasure of a biscuit
Enjoyed honestly with coffee.

I blame it on my success with those Rich Teas.


© Copyright 2020. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved

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