As luscious-lime hedgerows turn jaunty ginger
and smooth-slick skin turns furrowed and fusty,
you remain true. Still there. My trusty friend;
the comforting memory of a waft-warm drink.
Still there. Trusty. A trusty friend very thoughtfully
placed. Knowing that that my friend knows me,
I smirk; a joke shared. Throat parched, I wait
for jaunty ginger to give way to icy topping,
knowing that if I wait for long enough, the icy
topping will melt into saucy slush.
Copyright of poem and photo owned by Jay Cool, January 2019