Ode to the Cabbage of 2009

We first met under the starlights,
on an open field, ducking car headlights.
There is no sweeter fruit, than the one scrumped,
on a clear winters night.

I brought you home with me.
leaves as sweet as cabbage can be,
yet there was more than would suit me.
So to be preserved your fate would be.

In with your red cousin, bought from a market fayre,
Into a pot, so thinly sliced, I took care.
I pressed and pressed to make the juices run
Within them the lactophilus to come.

One pot, I couldn't wait to taste.
On the second at christmas to feast.
Alas the third, in the fridge stood.
I wondered how long to keep it I could

A year went by, and then two
Still in the cold it would stew.
When to open it, I would stare
Wether to taste I would dare.

Time and time I defrost the fridge
I observe you with eyes and nose as judge
Would the taste bring back that first night to me,
or would it grant me a trip to A&E?


by Minion M

For those readers in the states:
"scrumped" means stealthily obtained without consent of landowner
A&E (Accident & Emergency) is ER