Into a kettle
I let vapour drip, all of you - witches brew
- I float and whip
your ev’ry hue,
so to me
you stick, so thick like glue;
never ready,
a red and bubbling stew
oh yes
it was death we dodged, flew through
into a mess of petals
on which
I tripped;
my heart in flips,
falling for you, my lips
all blue. To stone I turned;
the flowers around us grew.