Porridge

Porridge

By Muriel Palanca

A bowl of porridge, plain as day, 

Earnestly stirred till quite congealed, 

Yet still just right, what can I say

That wouldn't leave my heart revealed?

For a simple kiss or your warm embrace 

Would be enough to satisfy

My desire to find a safer place 

And quell the wonder of my wandering eye. 

Not too hot and not too cold,

Your friendship is a lukewarm treat.

My fellow senior lacking spice,

You're steady, strong and always sweet.

Oblivious, you hold your beer,

While I try in vain to hold your hand;

My effort being most sincere 

On a hammock back in Hattiban.

Serves me right for when we met

Side by side, the two of us. 

How easily could I forget:

Six hours on the greyhound bus!

With Bounty bars and tokens paid,

We get through treks and rocks we climb. 

To not be laid or to be belayed,

With my life I trust you every time. 

An American girl and an English bloke, 

Maybe we can unite our nations:

My Prusik tight around your rope,

A carnal kind of Pure Exploration.

I know your answer but it's worth trying 

For the chance you'll spend one night with me. 

End of the day there's no point crying 

Over tepid porridge and spilled milk tea.