I saw her at the fish shop.
Cod lying on a cold white slab.
Her hair so soft, ‘twould put the finest silk to shame.
Herrings, mouths agape, with staring eyes.
Blue eyes with a warm, sweet smile.
Flat fish, plaice and sole together lie.
A soft brown suntan adds effect.
Lobsters, still alive, their claws tied down.
This Saxon beauty makes me reel,
As do the eels when trying to escape –
A vain attempt, ‘twill get them nowhere.
But I approach, and what of me?
She smiles, picks up her sole, and then departs.
And so I follow and forget my plaice.
I leave the cod and eels and kippers too,

© Michael J. Mason 1970