The Spice of Life

My old friend, who sat by my side since nursery, since school,
Who waited patiently in the amber-lit vestibule
After I wrecked my knee,
Whispered his plans like a stage villain
To me
(To the whole pub )
That he was going to finish his drink,
Pack up and leave for France
In the spontaneity of adventure,
And romance.

He returned within the fortnight, flew home
In rocky weather as soon as his tongue brushed
Cheese that was not cheddar
And said he couldn’t be salt
Without his black pepper.

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