PoetrySub

I *really* want to eat biscuits now

My granny's perfume. The steam rising from dumplings on top of a beef stew. Mum mixing Coleman's mustard in that stained eggcup from the '70s. Our spaniel, Jasper, heaving a hopeful sigh under the dinner table. The stench of wintergreen cream (Ben Gay) on my muscles, aching from softball practice.