Brooke Forbes

Add honey, to your tea, sweetpea,

Add heat, to your shower, honey. 

Add spice, to your dinner, sugar. 

Bathe longer, in that soapy scent, of lemon myrtle. 

Clean your bones,

Fresh and white,

In native fragrances,

While you scrub,

Ever so frantically,

Away,

The madness –

of daily expectations. 

What will you find? 

A bottomless pit of angst?

A merciless merry-go-round? 

A sign saying “get off here”?

The destination keeps changing – 

Not in location, but in sights and sounds,

In stillness and movements,

In matter and might. 

It’ll be ok, she says, into the soft wind. 

Add a drop of honey, honey,

And all will be fixed.