I pour the thick liquid
I think of smouldery things
Like chicory and strawberry.
It does land
Into the heart shaped mold
And layers on top the pink stripped candy.
Is my thought
A small edible piece of idea
Something to cover your tongue
If the day gets sour
There is no fighting allowed in my small candy shop
We only have candy if it is made properly.
I open the small cross framed wooden window
The air is spring and sunshine burns off the early morning fog.
“Good morning”I say to you.
“It is my dear” you reply and kiss my cheek on your way out the door.