The Milkman Chase

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Tongue-in-cheek poem about childhood nostalgia. Based on a true story....

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It was a chance at lost childhood

The dinky bottle, the first fresh sip

Sheen foil tying past to adulthood

A fight starting prize: the cream-packed lid


A stroll at nightclubbed dawn,

Stirred tiddly Lee to make the call

After spotting on her scruffed lawn

Nosy Nessa reaching a milk bottle


Hello, the milkman said

What days work best for you?

Every single day, Lee hiccupped

I’ll have red, green and blue


Bottles on step, tears on chilled glass

A proud dad holding newborns

‘Drink it all now or make it last?’

An exquisite kind of torn

 

And the lids hit the trash whilst Proust held his hand

 

Hello, the displeased milkman said

You owe me thirteen weeks

Lee’s habit had snared him in the red

Cream, lids, sips – weak Lee on knees

 

There must be a way, he thought to himself

To remain a ‘manchild’ was more than a must

But with three sofa pennies and overdraft shelved

Came milkman's shouts, family loans and lost trust

 

In the end, Lee worked panda-eyed hours

To cut his sheen foiled tie

And bid farewell to mentor Proust

And drank UHT with a heavy sigh

 

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