Sweet golden syrup
In little plastic bears and farmer-labeled jars,
You pollinate cups of tea
And harmonize candy bars.
You lace the morning toast, cheer up
Oatmeal, and top off hospitality
With nectar and balm.
More than rose, wine, or song, your purity
Can revive when blent.
Your sticky amber spooned in tea,
Or squeezed on toast, muffin, or bun,
Reminds the weary of sweetness, the blunt