Last night I dreamt
of toilet rolls galore.
They floated all around my bed
and danced across the floor.
Pasta hung like curtains
from the window frame,
baked beans shone like diamonds
sparkling in the rain.
There were bars and bars of soap
dangling in the trees,
and rows and rows of hand gel
swaying on the breeze.
Then I woke
from that dream sublime,
to find all of them were gone
and none of them were mine.
By Alison Hunt