A velvety, chocolate drink that shushed me to sleep in my baby years,
As I downed it gladly I was soothed,
As my parents heard that one final ‘knock’ on the ground to signal that I was asleep.
Every time the gentle words ‘milo’ roll off someone’s tongue I have a yearning,
A desire to smell it again,
Taste it again,
Feel it again,
That once I drink it, hot or cold, I feel energised.
When the cool, green packaging touches my hands i’m just itching with excitement,
To unveil the sepia brown powder lying beneath,
Waiting to be drank.
And my spoon stirs, ever so effortlessly, in a rhythmic clockwise direction,
My mug inching closer to my lips
as they part slightly,
And the chocolatey mixture seeps through.