A Sweet Man (two poems)
A Sweet Man
Wistfully, our noses pressed against the window
we'd watch the man rolling and kneading,
kneading sweet paste into a long, twisted snake.
His big strong hands worked adeptly
as the smell wafted from the door.
Our mouths watered, our eyes grew big.
Every now and then he'd look up and wink.
Sometimes he'd beckon us to come in
and we'd ask him lots of questions.
'What are those? ' 'What flavour are they? '
'Can we buy one for a penny? '
He'd never answer, he'd just carry on.
On good days, without saying a word,
he'd bag up some scraps and give us all a treat.
'How much, mister? ' We'd ask.
'Get out of it' he'd say and hand us each a bag
with a warning about our teeth
and 'I'll never make a bloody living like this'.
Sweet Man
Kneading and rolling, rolling and kneading
sweet sticky paste beneath hard hands clinging
we watched mesmerized with taste buds tingling,
our pockets empty, no pennies jingling.
Nowadays sweets come in packets, no mess,
just pretty wrappers and advertisements
I miss those days of hunger I confess,
those days of dreams and youthful wonderment.
Twisting and turning the long sausage paste
all cough candy flavoured that in its way
not only showed off his handsome, strong face
but also his softer, fatherly ways
Oh sweet, sweet man do you still knead and roll
You're sweets never so sweet as your sweet soul.
poem by Ruth Walters
Added by Poetry Lover
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