Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Dinner served cold

Firsts

Jelly on the table,
hands on the floor,
eating your feet,
and you want more!

Your face a
burnt apricot,
my lips saying
"this is what I got."


Seconds

Farewell to dreams,
I bid you farewell,
a poem a day
comes out of its shell.


Thirds

Whistle a tune,
be happy, don't worry,
For you know that
God makes a mean curry.


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