I gently squeezed my heggedal,
it felt firm within my grasp,
the benzy smelled of lemon zest
the afjarden fresh mown grass.
Standing on the toftbo
I rummaged in my skubb,
my besta had been scratched somehow
and needed a light rub.
I dusted down my ribba
and my stornas too,
you handed me your barbar
my arv I gave to you.
Feel these dittes you asked me,
do they feel alvros to you,
perhaps a little werna
but they do look good on you.
We both lay on the skarum,
my knodd lay on the floor,
you showed me where your pluggis was,
I fumbled with your klor.
At last we both were ekne
and blessed our gosa how,
with pressa and some mulig
We all love Ikea now.
© Graham Sherwood 11/2012
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