Saturday, June 15, 2013

Food Poem


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.