Fast food restaurant

Nowadays I have to look,
To see just just what I've bought.
Or I'll end up with with sugar,
On my chips instead of salt.

To one of the kitchen staff,
I asked politely could I have a utensil.
To eat my cheesy chips,
She answered back sternly,
As she began to talk.
The girl on the till should have given you one,
That sounds nice, I replied. But at my age
All I want is a fork.




Poetry by Alan J Ripley The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2024-03-31 at 01:18

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alarian The PoetBay support member heart!
very polite
I wish the generals would behave as gentlemen
-please, launch first an attack
-no sir, after you
-I beg you pardon, I would be honoured if you would shoot first
2024-03-31