A Sonnet for Skittles

I didn’t much go in for flavours sour

A feeling the colour of hazard’s grape

It’s not that my tongue would perforce cower

It was nicer to spill from a pen’s nape

~.~

Better was Tropical, wrapped up in sky

It was the fresh air of kids and recess

A bag of Spring, unstructured time, spirits high

Games in woods that wore a playful green dress

~.~

Wild Berry fed me in an amber mood

An impulse less regular than the sun

This candy kind was not with orange crewed

But all’s well when a darker sweet has won

~.~

Childhood, like blood, takes spaces liminal

I’ll stop for a bag of Original