Paris Journey’s – Eating Haddock

Life With Catnip

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The flavour flourishing, relapsing
Seas of splendour plenty
Rendering to me, exotic delicacies
From the bays of the Atlantic
Probably fresh everyday.

And then again the thoughts of you
Stretching and yawning,
An aroma so disturbing,
But so oh aroused with the curve of morning light across my face, my memory blushes and I scorn the scent of haddock, hurling almost,
The first time I ate him, I smelled
More than tasted.

From its steam from my tea curls of truer images, like a reeking brew,
Unable to enjoy sipping tea
I recall how I used to think if this pungent fish were the epitome
of sea life, unable to grasp its putrid
Fishy smell lingering forevermore.

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