A bout of adult chicken pox,
Sits upon my fixed expression,
Crouching on your doorstep,
My arm stuck in your letter box,
Betwixt the orange stitch,
Of my chunky knit blazer,
And the brass effect, tourniquet, flap,
I can squint, just through the lint,
Your self defence taser,
I paper cut my fingertips,
On my folded pukka sheet,
Some pathetic homiletic lines,
I’d rather not repeat,
Regret not fully fledged,
When my extremity was wedged,
I’ve now rehearsed the lines,
Where life love and sanity are pledged,
You ARE the doorway to my heart,
I’m IN the doorway to your flat,
At least we’ve got the opportunity,
For us to have a chat,
Your eyes are bright like laser beams,
You hair is soft like kettle steam,
You’re honeydew, I swear to you,
This is not what it seems,
You clip clop back from five a side,
Those beams are gleaming homicide,
My elbow’s turning purple,
And wish I’d never tried,
You use a pair of size ten crocs,
To prop open your letter box,
Slain with shame yet again,
Eye level with your knee high socks,
The protracted pain of extraction,
Gives you a sickly satisfaction,
But one limb break and entry,
Is less a crime, more an infraction,
A bout of adult chicken pox,
Peeling off my fixed expression,
As you explain that you don’t know me,
To a pair of lanky cops.
Gwen
Life, the Universe and would you pass the custard creams? 
I think this is my fave poem (so far!). Cracked up so much, especially at this bit:
My elbow’s turning purple,
And wish I’d never tried,
You use a pair of size ten crocks,
To prop open your letter box,
Slain with shame yet again,
Eye level with your knee high socks,
I wish my drawing skills were better because I want to draw that scene so bad. Maybe Eleanor would give it a go? Although i’m pretty sure most of he people sh draws haven’t heard of crocs….
Ha ha, I think you should give it a go anyway. Thanks Hannah.
Gwen