The Mustard Jar Poem by Christopher Thumwood

I had a jar once filled with mustard
Now was it French or grey poupon?
It matters not for it's long gone
And in this jar lives something else.

I say lives, because it is alive,
Though this is only recent fact
Before he was just candle-wax
Now in his jar he's something else

He is a thing, but I don't know what?
Looks just like a garden snail
Yet he's bright red and leaves no trail.
So I've deduced he's something else.

He cannot talk but we converse
By tentacle semaphore,
Literally... not metaphor.
He shared his name and something else.

He introduced himself as; 'Guy.
Once flambeau now a mollusc,
And unhappy, if I'm honest
You see I dream of something else.'

'Dreams beyond my condiment jar
Whilst I am thrilled to have a life...
I also want a snaily wife,
My life is breath and nothing else'

I knew then that we must part ways,
I took him to the kitchen door
Then said farewell forever more...
He went to find that something else

I had a jar once filled with mustard
Now was it French or grey poupon?
It matters not for it's long gone
and inside is nothing else.