I put out walnuts at 11
for the squirrel in my garden.
I call him Fat Gus.
I used to make omelettes at 7.
2 eggs for me,
2 eggs for you.
Spinach for our blood,
and mushrooms for our love.
He seems to be thriving,
dining while I’m pining.
Smiling and shining,
in the garden while I’m crying.
Now I make omelettes at 6.
3 eggs for me,
and none for you.
Peppers for my colour,
courgettes for the summer,
and the odd mushroom here and there…
A relic of you
my missed and glistening lover.
I wish we could have kissed
on a morning full of slumber,
as we prepared a box of treats
to sate Fat Gus’s hunger.