By Brodie H. Brockie

O, Chuckles! O, mysterious confection.
You multi-hued, jellied riddle.
You are my constant, my rock, my fixed star.

Snickering Snickers, alleged Good Bars, M&Ms all go,
but you, sweet Chuckles, you remain.
Payday after pay day, you remain.

A totem of squares of pure unwanted bliss,
Saturated in sugars, saturated in colors,
Saturated in joyful solitude.

Red! Yellow! Black! Orange! and Green!
So long have you stood your ground
Your emerald northern tile has slumped sadly into rectangle.

Once you were the hooves of a mighty stallion.
You retain that spirit, proud but grounded.
As the fickle sweets are purchased and devoured, you remain.