Kitchen drawer of a type 2 diabetic
If I had fingers, I would find things. I would fumble, feeling through drawers of cards and notes. Fond felicitations of folk, friends from days gone by; five new pence; four candles; photos of first found love; french dictionary; fixtures and fittings; fabric for furniture faded and faint, a fad never realised from the fifties; a foreign fan forged in the far east; finger wipes from fatty fast food feasts; financial files on useless floppy flimsies; flex; foam; forms; freezer bags; fridge magnets; fuses; fuzzy, furry sweeties.
Oh the fundamental fun of the frolic of finding!
If I only had fingers.
But I don’t and my friends call me stumpy!
(2014)