Chocolate Teapot
I’m a triangular bicycle wheel.
I’m a duvet made of steel.
I’m a knitted key for a feathered lock.
I’m fibreoptic noodles in a paper wok.
I’m my sister’s toothbrush.
I’m the playground’s hush.
I’m the ocean’s fire.
I’m a silent choir.
I’m a poem that doesn’t rhyme.
I’m smells-of-roses-dry-wipe-slime.
I’m the dead straight tubes of an unfurled trumpet.
I’m the butter that didn’t melt on your crumpet.
I’m useless at everything, you see …
except that I’m mint at being me.
I’m a duvet made of steel.
I’m a knitted key for a feathered lock.
I’m fibreoptic noodles in a paper wok.
I’m my sister’s toothbrush.
I’m the playground’s hush.
I’m the ocean’s fire.
I’m a silent choir.
I’m a poem that doesn’t rhyme.
I’m smells-of-roses-dry-wipe-slime.
I’m the dead straight tubes of an unfurled trumpet.
I’m the butter that didn’t melt on your crumpet.
I’m useless at everything, you see …
except that I’m mint at being me.
This poem is copyright (©) Hilary Elder 2026
About the Writer
Hilary Elder
Hilary was born, raised and lives in the Far North of England – though she has been to other places. She loves writing for children and grownups, and doing projects helping people get the most out of words. She has work published in Tyger Tyger, The Caterpillar, Paddle Press, The Dirigible Balloon and Northern Gravy, among others. Her first book of poems comes out with Valley Press in 2025. Find her at hilaryelder.com
