I collect egg shells. I let them dry out and then crunch them into a plastic tub that used to hold houmous. That pot fills and I start a new one. The act of crunching them every day or so, reminds me how it sounds when you walk on eggshells. Eventually, I sprinkle the shards on the garden to deter slugs. And then they know too.

Egg shells, walking on

A touch or a feel
Indecent assault
A blunder, that’s all
And never his fault

Pastry that crumbles
And slips down the throat
Settles in acid
With lies that can choke

It’s egg shells that crack
Crunched, under your spell
My lips prized, apart
The whole truth to tell

This poem was written today. To see poems I wrote before today, visit my website: annerainbow.me.uk