Gooey

Gooey whispers in the quiet kitchen,
A river of caramel slipping slow,
It clings to spoons, to fingers, to the tin,
A tender tide that lovers know.

Like jam on scones at afternoon tea,
Or melted cheese upon a warm crumpet,
It stretches, sighs, and sweetly flees,
Leaving traces of delight we can’t forget.

In the puddle of a melted chocolate bar,
Or the slick of honey on a scone,
Gooey paints the world bizarre—
A soft, embracing, sugary tone.

So let us savour each viscous thread,
For in its slip we find our bliss,
A British treat, delicately spread,
A gooey moment, pure, unmissed.