Food for
Thought
By Mary Nida
Smith ©
Some mornings
come scrambled.
Vegetables I nibble
wishing I was a bunny.
Meats are chewy
not on my plate,
I stock pile
my food too high
with lots of Idaho
spuds and gravy.
I should ration
desert is near-by.
People call food –
vittles, chow or grub,
it doesn’t matter
I eat too much.
I need a diet.
Thoughts on food
throw away all cookbooks.
Run out and play,
that’s for me.
Photo of Easton & Dakota taken at Gaston's Resort having lunch.
Poem was written & posted on children's author's blog for June's poem.
