I Opened the FreezerMature

I opened the freezer
And inside I found,
Not the meal I was looking for,
But the champagne, all spilt everywhere,
The bottle burst,
Sweet slurry flooding the ice-box,
Frozen foam,
A Christmas coating like snow,
But more expensive,
And more refined to the taste,
But suddenly I was sad,
“What a waste!”
Was what I thought,
All this turned to crystal
Among the peas and 59 pence bags of sweetcorn,
So I scooped a handful of it out with my hand,
And stared at it there,
And let it melt,
Just long enough to dip my tongue in it to taste,
But I did not drink it.
No, I did not drink it.
For champagne is for celebration,
And I had nothing to celebrate.
That and it was filled with glass,
So I let it melt and drip through my fingers and spill on the floor,
It wasn’t even bubbly.
In the end  it was flat and damp and sad as it dribbled down my arm and made a puddle on the kitchen floor,
And I stood in that puddle thinking how disappointed I was:
I had opened that freezer to find a meal,
And instead been given champagne,
Which had turned to ice before I could taste it,
And dripped to the floor through my fingers, filled with glass and spoilt expectations,
And pooled at my feet and soaked into my socks,
Like nostalgia.
Like handshakes.
Like love.

The End

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