Ginger in My Pocket

17/7/25 10.30pm

 

 

My pockets hold many things; odd tissues, many brown, often past-their-life elastic bands rescued in the street or on paths where postman have wantonly cast them away…

 

Sometimes seeds, their heads plucked surreptitiously from an unsuspecting hedgerow or garden wall where their owners have brazenly hung alluringly.

 

Occasionally, a brightly coloured plastic food clip, last seen adorning a bag of frozen peas squashed into the corner of a freezer drawer, the contents now drowning in a pan or even residing in someone’s alimentary tract, en route…

 

Often, my pockets may hold a tiny sugar-free mint, grown soft as it lay there, warmed, snuggled by body heat. Or a white rectangle of sugar-free gum, squashed by the same warmth, its shiny glaze cracked, oozing softness into the other inhabitants…

 

Oh, my pockets are wonderful things-veritable Aladdins caves of treasures, all precious!

 

And sometimes, more recently, they hold forgotten items, still loved but misfiled like the gnarled ginger root I found tonight as I climbed into bed…

 

Tomorrow I will take it back home…