Ah, memories.

Old corner-shop with more space than stock

I am sweet-shop counter mad for you
and take time to recall what it was
I came for. Mildly unformed jelly shapes,
or silk-smooth chocolate cigarettes
wrapped in edible paper? It is an old cabinet
I peer through, its thin dark-wood frame
barely enough to hold the weight of my hands,
of my nose, smearing their consideration.

I am chewing yesterday's gobstopper
but it is absent-minded. The magazine racks
are behind and I do collect stickers, but
this is not why I'm here with my own stash of money.

No, I am sweet-shop mad for you.
I take my time. I make my choice.