You are the ear-piercing sound of people rushing around in London.

You are the taste of sweet, fluffy marshmallows in a pocket.

You are the sound of music to my ears.

You are stranded in a rainforest waiting to be saved.

You are the impossibility of

hot ice, rainbow clouds

and non-sticky syrup.

You are the smell of perfume, filling the room, with a sweet rose scent.

You are an abandoned child on the side of a boiling hot road, surviving hunger.

You are the smell of stinky monkeys in a tiny enclosure.

You are the smell of burning fire in a crackling building.

You are hot like magma in a volcano, as cold as the classrooms during covid and as normal as earth.

You are the happiness we feel, like a full stomach after a roast dinner.

You are a horseshoe stranded in a muddy field, waiting for it’s hero.

You are the tick-tock sound of a clock, on a barren wall hoping to retire.

You are the finish line.