February Poem 19/28
Rice, Crackers, Apples, Coffee
If I faltered slightly twice
Would you still think me nice?
Or would you serve me up with liver
On a plate of left out rice
Would you chop me up to bits?
Would you treat me like the ritz?
Would you bob me up for apples
And skewer me on a spit?
Caught up in the crosshairs of your demands
Watching solitude and servitude exchanging bright red hands
Left Brain, Right brain just can't keep up
My true role: leftover coffee grounds right in your cup
Oblique Strategy of the day: Do the washing up