Fizzy

Fizzy

In a tall glass the lemonade waits,
a pale‑yellow promise of sunshine,
its surface a still lagoon—
until the first tap releases a whisper
of escaping gas, a soft hiss that sighs
like a secret shared between friends.

Bubbles rise, bright and restless,
each one a tiny silver globe
darting upward, bursting at the rim
with a delicate pop that tingles the nose,
a gentle riot of sparkle on the tongue.

The liquid dances, a lively waltz,
carrying the sharp, sweet tang of citrus
and the faint, familiar bite of soda—
a flavour that feels both old and new,
like remembering a summer fete
while standing barefoot on a dewy lawn.

It is the sound of celebration,
the clink of ice against glass,
the laughter that bubbles up
when the world feels a little too flat.

So here’s to the fizzy—
that effervescent whisper of joy
that lifts the spirit,
one sparkling sip at a time.