Poem: The Purple Spoon

We lived in fear of The Purple Spoon. It was plastic with some baking crud for an extra texture, and it chased us

upstairs and into our bedrooms, and it only connected if we were really naughty, but it was a constant threat.

(Because, I guess, our behaviour was a constant threat). The Purple Spoon lived in the top drawer, and

would raise its head to remind…