The Sweet Shop

There is a sweet shop in town
On a corner, small and neat,
Room for six on sunny days,
No room for umbrellas.
The sweets are pastile pure
Child-hood colours
Boiled,like glass,
Wrapped in paper bags
A hundred grammes a time
Legions in plastic bottles
Stand on crowded shelves,  
Safe for children  
Straight from school,
As Grandma smiles,  
And drooling pays  
For Kirsty's packet
Thinking  of yesterday's
Liquorice sticks and kali.