Honey

Honey, I tell you, I am like a sandwich filling
sometimes I'm gritty and dry like stale peanut butter
and I'll seal your mouth shut

sometimes I'm black and salty like vegemite
and you'll only want me in small doses

sometimes I'm cheese, solid and mature, nurturing
I could be your mother

sometimes I'm a salad, a bit of this and that scattered
everywhere, but oh so good for you

sometimes I'm fish spread, & just the smell of me
will take you elsewhere

sometimes I'm so sweet and stiff, smooth and viscous
you'll wonder if my mouth tastes like honey,

honey.

© Liz Winfield