Every morning when I wake 
I’m greeted by bright shapes
Pleasure met deep inside with every breath I take 
Pulling me past the ageing bowl of grapes 
A tense growing 
With anticipation sleep is lost 
Great knowing
To you it is the cost
A joyous shriek, a clattering of speed Followed in a
splashing 
Every morning it’s all it takes 
With a ceremonious thrashing 
To eat a bowl of Fruity Flakes  


This is to you Gran with much love