… feathered my childhood.
Americans call it cotton candy.
I know better: it’s magical.
Revellers in that realm craft it.
Young forever, they fill it with light.
Fluffy, clingy sweetness melts.
Loveliness fills the delighted mouth.
Oh, the zing that follows the airy touch!
Soft hints of fairyland linger.
Somehow, they never quite fade.
In Australia we really do call it Fairy Floss.
For Weekly Scribblings #87 at Poets and Storytellers United, Rommy asked us to write on anything we might find at a fair.
Image: By Valerie Elash at Unsplash.