If I could swim in a pool of Vimto I would.
Not the fizzy kind, mind, bubbles give me wind,
but if I saw a pool of still Vimto I’d dive right in.
I’d let the memories of old summers stick to me,
turn my whole body into a satisfied stained smile.
I’d dance with Purple Ronnie and not understand his ruder poems.
I’d stop trying to work out what fruit is in Vimto
and for once just be present and let the juice tickle me.
I’d tell Craig it’s fine if he prefers Ribena and I prefer Vimto.
It really doesn’t matter. I’m pretty sure we can stay friends.
I’d wave goodbye to Craig again.

© Carl Burkitt 2019

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s