The Grower of Grin.

Pumpkin round face,
And cheeks of red radish,
Lettuce like eyelids,
And leak like eyelashes.

With a King Edward chin,
He would chatter and grin,
As he opened the shop,
To young mum’s and their kin.

Chops & Chopin,
Never felt much like him,
But when he chopped chives,
He was ‘Saladin’.

With a side slung sabre,
Of glinting edge,
He was the vizier
Of fresh ‘Fruit & Veg.’

King of fake grass,
And of boxes and crates,
This was the place,
Where the beets met their fates.

They’d turn up their toes,
Next to red tomatoes,
The chillies & Gingers,
Were his foes severed fingers.

The twisting of bags,
And swinging of scales,
The juicy ‘ker-ching’,
Of his myriad sales.

Weighing & bagging,
And raking it in,
No wonder the grocer,
Grew many a grin.

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