Like those fizzy yellow treats, Tee Francis’ poems are often bittersweet - and sparkle with wit.
She explores the personal and the political: poems about cotton buds, left-over Christmas trees and insomnia jostle with a cleverly rhyming Ode to Jeremy Hunt and a satirical monologue in the voice of a Brexit-voting ex-pat who – surprise, surprise - prefers to live in Spain. There are tenderly erotic love lyrics (Hymn for Him, Communion, Silent Treatment) and poems which celebrate the beauty of the Dorset countryside where she lives (On Walking to Fleet Church). There are some very funny poems which were written for Spoken Word performance but, even on the page, made this reader laugh out loud (Slots, Forbidden Pleasures).